


Beyond Imagination

by msperfectsheep



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Accidental Trans-Dimensional Coworker Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Carrie Kelley is Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick and Tim are from Young Justice because I thought that would be fun, Dimension Travel, Gen, I may regret this later but YOLO, I plan on rewriting this when it's finished, I was gonna wait until I had a final draft but I got impatient, Jason Todd is Robin, Oops all Robins, Other characters will be added later to avoid spoilers, Stephanie Brown is Robin, Tim Drake is Robin, Time Travel, Vaguely inspired by Batman: The Brave and the Bold #13, Well not yet - Freeform, no editing we die like robins, sorry about that btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msperfectsheep/pseuds/msperfectsheep
Summary: “That wasn’t an answer, so allow me to ask again. Who are you?”For a moment, silence.“...I do not have time for such poor attempts at humor. Now, explain to me what exactly you’ve done.”“What I’ve done? Look, kid, can you just let me talk to Nightwing? I really don’t have time for this.”Jason watched as a couple of kids dressed as fairies ran past him, and he felt as out of place as when he’d first arrived at the Manor. Halloween was months away, and even then, nobody in Gotham really followed the tradition of trick-or-treating. Too easy to be mugged, kidnapped, or a victim of Scarecrow. Maybe a costume party? But the venue was huge, and there being multiple vendors wasn’t fitting for that kind of occasion.“Nightwing isn’t here,” the boy all but growled. “Todd, I suggest you end whatever game you’re playing before I make you regret it. Where am I and what did you do to me?”-0-AKA, what happens when you take six Robins from the nest and throw them in a world where their whole existence is just fiction with no clear answer on how to return.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Carrie Kelley, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Carrie Kelley, Tim Drake & Stephanie Brown & Carrie Kelley
Comments: 33
Kudos: 147





	1. In which a Suicide Squad Harley Quinn cosplayer gives Jason Todd a heart attack

_Location: Unknown_ _  
_ _Date: Unknown_ _  
_ _Time: Unknown_

Wrong. 

Everything about this...was _wrong_. 

The first thing he saw when he came to were people. People flitting about a large space, dressed in colorful and outlandish costumes as they moved from stand to stand. People with families talking, and laughing, and smiling. People taking photos with each other, despite being complete and utter strangers that’d met only moments before. 

It would have been a laughably normal sight if it wasn’t so blatantly wrong. 

One, last Jason remembered, it had been night. The bright, unnaturally blue sky showing clearly through the glass roof contradicted that, and glaringly so. 

Two, going off of the sky, he was not anywhere near Gotham. To have a sky this clear he’d have to be somewhere like Metropolis, as Gotham’s air was so laden with pollutants and chemicals that the brown haze was as much a part of the city as the Batsignal.

Three, he was alone, yet in costume. Robin never went out alone in broad daylight, because that would only be slightly less effective than screaming, “COME AND GET ME” at every villain within a 20 mile radius. 

And lastly, four, he had no idea how he got here, wherever ‘here’ even was. No recollection of being attacked or dragged against his will, and no lingering feeling of pain or drugs to suggest he’d been caught unawares. 

No, it was as if he’d blinked, and in that moment, everything around him changed.

To say he was disoriented would be an understatement, but this wasn’t something completely out of his line of work either. He could very well be under the effect of a drug right now while Batman fought whatever villain put him in this state. Or hell, he could even be dreaming. Dreams didn’t always make sense, and sometimes Jason didn’t even remember how he entered the dream in the first place.

However, neither of those options felt particularly sound. The room around him was too detailed, too alive. It stunk of body odor and was uncomfortably warm. Too vivid for a dream, at least compared to the dreams he usually had. 

Which only left him with that growing feeling of wrongness. 

“Robin?” 

He felt himself turn at the familiar name—he was in uniform, after all—and found himself face to face with a girl dressed like Harley Quinn...Sorta? 

She was obviously much younger than the real Harley, a preteen probably, and her costume was off. It wasn’t the familiar red and black, but instead a brighter combination of red and blue. There were other differences in clothing, with her usual eyeburning jumpsuit replaced with just some spiffed up street clothes, but that was superficial. Harley rarely had her mind made up anyways. 

Still, he couldn’t help but freeze as he took her in. The not-Harley had a pleasant, sane smile on her face, and she held up a large, blue smartphone with a built-in camera the size of a quarter. “Do you mind if we can take a picture? Your cosplay is really, really good.” 

...Cosplay?

_Cosplay?_

“Shit, I mean...sure?” His mouth went on autopilot while his mind blanked entirely. The not-Harley lit up and pranced over to his side, holding up her phone towards the both of them. “Say Batman!” 

He was so, so confused, but thankfully his body was willing to just go along while he processed things. It made a cheerful, almost-but-not-quite-Dick Grayson smile, posed the way he’d been taught for Bruce’s dumb galas, and heard himself parrot the thematic parody of “Cheese!”. That seemed to be enough to satiate not-Harley, and she walked off without a hitch, leaving him to his own devices once more. 

On one hand, that was good, because he wasn’t really up for a fight with a mini-Harley. However, on the other hand, _what the actual fuck?_

Jason tapped his earpiece, trying to connect to Batman or to Alfred or to anyone who could help him that wasn’t a potentially corrupt cop(which were all of them, by the way). Superman, maybe? With his super hearing, he wouldn’t have an issue finding Jason, but it felt silly just to call him away from whatever he was doing just because he was shaken up by a Harley admirer. 

The main channel he used to talk to Batman was completely silent, and so was the one connecting to Agent A. Regardless, he still tried them both, knowing it’d be foolish not to.

“Hello? B? You there?” 

Nothing. He changed the frequency.

“Agent A? You listening?” 

Nope. 

A weight formed at the bottom of his stomach. Maybe the main channel? He rarely used it unless Nightwing was involved, but it was still a try. 

“Hey, is anyone listening? It’s me, Robin.” 

There was a silence, and with the pattern he’d experienced before, Jason thought that he was going to have the same results. But he was thankfully proven wrong only seconds later.

“Todd?” The voice was young and somewhat accented. Middle Eastern, maybe even Arab? Either way, it was young, confused, and sounded almost offended by Jason’s sheer existence. Not to mention that _he said Jason’s civilian name_. 

Well, fuck.   
  
This was an interesting, if not probably dangerous, development. Weighing his options, Jason eventually decided to reply, figuring that information was more important. “Who’re you?” 

There were so many more questions he wanted to ask, like how the kid knew who he was or why he was even on this channel, but he had to go slow. Had to be methodical and explore everything first without risking scaring off his target. Just as Bruce taught him. 

“Tt. Your stupidity and lack of tact are as maladroit as always.” 

Jason felt a hot flash of anger rise within him as the boy just brushed him off like every other rich asshole in Gotham, but just as quickly as it’d formed, put it out. He couldn’t let some snot-nosed kid get to him when he’d survived hours of boring gala after gala. 

Instead, he walked over to a more secluded part of the building, near what looked to be one of many exits. Leaning against the wall, he took a deep breath before talking. “That wasn’t an answer, so allow me to ask again. Who are you?” 

For a moment, silence. 

“...I do not have time for such poor attempts at humor. Now, explain to me what exactly you’ve done.” 

“What I’ve done? Look, kid, can you just let me talk to Nightwing? I really don’t have time for this.” 

Jason watched as a couple of kids dressed as fairies ran past him, and he felt as out of place as when he’d first arrived at the Manor. Halloween was months away, and even then, nobody in Gotham really followed the tradition of trick-or-treating. Too easy to be mugged, kidnapped, or a victim of Scarecrow. Maybe a costume party? But the venue was huge, and there being multiple vendors wasn’t fitting for that kind of occasion.

“Nightwing isn’t here,” the boy all but growled. “Todd, I suggest you end whatever game you’re playing before I make you regret it. Where am I and what did you do to me?” 

Jason sighed heavily as it became glaringly clear they were going nowhere. “I don’t know, and I didn’t do anything. I just woke up in this stupid-ass building filled with people in costumes, met and interacted with a Harley Quinn lookalike, and have been talking in circles with some fucking kid who somehow got ahold of Nightwing’s comm but won’t tell me their name. There, game ended.” 

He tensed as a man dressed as a mall cop walked by, but all that happened is that they met eyes, leaving Jason feeling stupid for overreacting. Why would he have a reason to engage? Jason wasn’t some homeless kid on the streets anymore. 

“Todd, describe to me exactly what you see right now and what you are wearing. Talking like this in broad daylight is both cumbersome and unnecessarily suspicious.” 

“Quit it with the Todd thing, my name’s Robin right now. I’m wearin’ my costume and everything. As for where I am…”

Jason straightened, back still against the wall, and looked around him for anything that resembled an identifiable landmark. While the comm boy wasn’t exactly kind or trustworthy, Jason figured that if he was a threat, it was one he could manage to fight off or subdue if he needed to. 

“I’m in a corner, near one of the exits. To my left, there’s a drink vending machine and some bathrooms. The stands in front of me are mostly unremarkable, except for one that has a tall banner that reads ‘TREATS’ in bright red letters with a yellow background. It smells a bit like sugar around here as well, like cotton candy.” 

He didn’t grow up with cotton candy, and he didn’t really like the taste when Alfred had been teaching him how to make much better sugary desserts that didn’t burn his throat when he ate them, but Dick had been addicted when he dragged Jason to a town fair held outside of Gotham one time. It was a nice day trip, even if it was a little awkward since they barely knew each other at the time. 

“That was an apt enough description. Stay put, I will meet with you shortly.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You have no right to tell me what to do. I can go wherever I want.” Jason wouldn’t, but he had to make it clear that he could.

“You—” The voice was cut off, and the feeling of dread from before spread over Jason like a winter’s frost. 

“Shit, are you alright? Did something happen? Hey!” He pushed himself off the wall, scanning the crowds before him for a boy who could possibly be in danger. A boy in uniform. 

A red and gold robot, a girl in a costume vaguely Asian and way too revealing, a few teens in regular clothes…

No kid. 

“Kid, you there?!” He tapped his comm again, hoping he’d just temporarily lost connection. 

“Silence.” The boy’s voice hissed from the other side, more annoyed than frightened. Jason obliged, even if he didn’t want to. He couldn’t just disobey the kid’s wishes and find him if he didn’t even know what the kid looked like. 

So he just stood there, muscles tensed and eyes alert. He felt his utility belt and, other than a few less batarangs than usual, everything within its many pockets for any number of situations. 

Eventually though, the silence was broken. Not by the boy’s voice, but another equally as young. It was a captivating, almost entrancing type of voice, one that just made you want to trust and believe in its speaker. 

Jason couldn’t forget that voice when he’d heard it for so long. 

“Who _are_ you?” 

It was Dick Grayson. 

“Nightwing, it’s me, Robin. Do you have a kid with you?” 

“Todd, please cease with your drivel momentarily.” The boy was back, so at least Jason knew he was with Dick. That was good. Dick was good with people, and he was good at identifying threats. If Nightwing allowed someone to use his comm, he trusted them. 

There was a bit more static on the other end of the comm, most likely from the boy and Nightwing talking. He allowed himself to relax a bit more and rested against the wall once again, keeping an eye out for the classic black and blue suit the acrobat wore. Or even just Dick Grayson’s obnoxiously bright smile. Either would be identifiable. 

“We have reached the ‘TREATS’ stand. You said you were in the corner nearby wearing your uniform, correct?” 

“Yeah. I don’t see Nightwing though, not yet.” 

A pause. “That’s because he isn’t dressed as Nightwing.” 

Okay, so likely in some tight-fitting t-shirt with some decal on it. Not a big deal. 

So why was the boy’s tone so careful? 

“I’m sensing a ‘but’, so spit it out.” He said tiredly. This odd insistence on not giving Jason any information to work with was getting annoying, and his exhaustion from the day before was catching up quickly. It’d been nearly 4 AM before he arrived here. 

But the boy didn’t give an answer. He didn’t need to. 

Emerging from the side of the “TREATS” stand, dressed in red, green, yellow, and in one case, black, were two more Robins. The two of them met Jason’s eyes, and unlike the rest of the costumes here that were clearly theatrical or fake, the metal of the Robin insignia on their chest gleamed with authenticity. 

“...Fuck.” 

-0-

To his credit, Jason didn’t scream, or yell, or do anything to attract attention. He instead stood there, desperately hoping this was just a hallucination or drug-induced dream. Because otherwise, if this was real, it left him with only a few possibilities, none of which were particularly savory. 

“As uncouth as that was, it wasn’t completely unwarranted.” The shorter, not-Dick Robin commented dryly with a frown. “I suppose you’re Todd, correct?”

He nodded, slowly. Normally he would have enforced the ‘No real names while on duty’ rule, but with all three of them in roughly the same uniform, it made sense to have that kind of distinction. Besides, any listeners could believe his first name was Todd and be done with it. “You two?” 

Little Dick looked like he wanted to answer, but the other Robin cut him off with a sharp shake of the head. “If we are to divulge identities fully, it will be out of costume. For now, address him as R1,” he pointed at Little Dick, “yourself as R2, and myself as R5.” 

Jason really wanted to ask what happened to R3 and R4, but didn’t. Instead, he just sighed with resignation. “Time travel, alternate universe, both, or neither?” 

“I suspect it’s either time travel or both, seeing as neither of you are the adults I’m familiar with.” R5 sniffed. “However, without knowing how exactly we came to be here, it cannot be certain.”

Little Dick eyed both of them, having not said a word to Jason’s face since looking like...that. “The best course of action would be first to understand our environment and assess the situation. Afterwards, we can branch out by finding more allies and create a plan to handle the situation at hand. Make sense?” 

Damn, even as a kid Dick was a good leader. 

“Yeah, it makes sense. However, walking around in real Robin gear, even in a place like this, isn’t a good idea. It's just asking for attention. I say we try to find a clothing stall ASAP and secure some civvies, since there are plenty of people that aren’t in costumes walking around as well.” Jason added thoughtfully. 

Both Dick and R5 nodded in agreement. God, it was weird to see Dick so young, and to see a kid he didn’t know in the Robin colors. It hurt a little, to know this kid would eventually replace him, but it actually hurt more to know that there were at least three after him, at least according to R5. How old was he in R5’s future? What did he do? Why did he give up Robin? 

So many questions danced tauntingly in his mind, but he kept them filed away for when the time was right to ask them. Dick was right, they had better priorities right now.

“So it's settled? We search for some proper clothes, grab some tote bags to shove the Robin suits in for now, then get a grasp on the situation and go from there. If anyone approaches you asking if you’re Robin, just say you’re cosplaying.” 

R5 pulled a face. “Cosplaying.” He said it as if Jason had just suggested instead he eat a pile of horse shit. 

“I know it sounds stupid, but the Harley-look alike from earlier instantly assumed that was the reason for my costume. So if someone asks while we’re dressed like this, just pretend that you’re some fanboy of Robin. Let them do the talking, and maybe you’ll even get some info out that’s useful.”

Jason didn’t know why he was leading. Dick was the natural leader, not him. 

R5 scowled, but didn’t object. Instead, he pulled out a neat fold of cash from one of the pockets of his utility belt. If used correctly, it could last them a decent while, but Jason hoped it wouldn’t come down to that. But he couldn’t risk the money being wasted either, it was just too precious of a resource in an unknown setting. 

Luckily, R5 seemed to understand this. He separated two bills from the small stack and handed one to Dick and one to Jason. A neat, brand new $20. Perfect. 

“I trust R2 to not waste money, as he is rather prudent when it comes to budgeting. However,” R5 frowned at Dick, “You not so quite. Before you start defending your honor or fighting my accusation by claiming I do not know you, note that particular assumption would be entirely false. That is why you two shall shop and scout out our situation while I shall search for any other Robins.” 

Dick didn’t look offended, to his credit. He looked amused, actually. “Alright, I’ll trust in that statement for now. Plus, it makes sense why you’re the one scouting out any others.”

 _Because he knows of the Robins after me but before himself. He’s closer to the future._ Jason’s brain filled in. 

“Yeah. Worst case, we use the comms and meet somewhere outside on a rooftop. But so far, I don’t see any sign of danger. So we should get moving before fate has a chance to enact Murphy’s Law upon us.” Jason half-joked. “Come on Rob, let’s go.” 

Without allowing Dick a chance to protest or R5 to slip in another wordy insult, Jason pulled the first Robin into the crowds. 

-0-

“So, time travel?” 

Honestly, in Jason’s not-so-professional opinion, Dick was handling this way better than he had any right to. The younger version of Nightwing was just as sharp in intellect and willing to cooperate, a pleasant breath of air compared to when Jason had to deal with Batman’s paranoia. Not to mention he was actually willing to speak, to joke, with Jason. 

The two of them had already been stopped by three more costumed teens and adults for photos, although none of their costumes were as recognizable as the fake Harley’s. They’d posed, “acted” like they were the first two Robins, and flashed smiles for the cameras. Odd for being in a Robin costume, but nothing new for a ward or member of the Wayne family. 

Now, Jason and Dick were ambling about the crowds, t-shirts and tote bags secured, but not anything resembling pants or good shoes. The t-shirts had been free after Jason answered some basic trivia regarding Charlotte Brontë, and they had the logo of the company emblazoned on the front, but they were free and that was good enough for Jason. The tote bags, from the same company, had been purchased for a dollar each. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Jason finally answered, looking away from a pair of socks he’d been mulling over buying. They had some cute cartoonish cats on them, but it was too overpriced for Jason’s liking. He set them back and continued browsing the stand. “It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened in this biz. Especially after you listen to some of the stories from the Justice League or any other group.” 

Dick laughed a bit at that. He looked about Jason’s age, but it was hard to tell with the mask, and especially hard when he knew what Dick would look like when he was older. Still, he couldn’t be near an adult yet, not with that physique. “Fair. Hey, what do you think of these?” 

They were black sweatpants with some logo on the side, probably meant for women. Jason located the price tag and took a look at it. “No way.” 

“Alright. I knew it was a stretch, but they were also the first pair of pants I’ve seen here all day.” Dick set the sweatpants back with a frown, clearly annoyed at the price and unluckiness of his find. 

Jason shared the sentiment, especially with how tired he was feeling. The exhaustion was catching up with him, and while he wasn’t cranky, he wasn’t in the best mood either. “Maybe we should ask around a bit. See if there’s even a lost and found we can search.” 

“I can’t believe the hardest thing I’ve done after time travelling is look for a pair of pants.” Dick joked. “But yeah, I agree. Let’s go.” 

They left the temporary shop and waded through the crowds once more, looking for someone who looked like an employee. Weirdly enough, when they did spot a staff member, a boy and girl both dressed as Robin were already talking to them. Well, at least this solidified the cosplaying claim, if a girl was dressed up like one of them. 

Jason shot a look at Dick, who was just staring at the two of them. He didn’t look offended or annoyed like Jason would’ve expected, just a touch confused. “Creative liberties go a long way.” 

“Yep.” 

Whatever had caused Dick to be bitter at Jason for becoming Robin hadn’t happened yet, if they were going with the time travel theory. It was...confusing. Different. Jason wasn’t sure what to do with something this weird, and so he decided to ignore it entirely. 

They stood back and pretended to be interested in some poster with an anime girl on it, waiting for the cosplayers to leave. They could have just waited behind the kids like normal people, but he didn’t want to have to pretend to be a fanboy of himself with an actual fanboy. That would just be weird, and possibly narcissistic.

Thankfully, fake Robin and Robinette eventually left, walking off towards the exit. Jason watched to see if anyone else was going to approach the staff member, and when no one did, made his move. 

It was a woman, tall, with dark brown hair and tanned skin. She looked to be possibly hispanic, and the name “REYES” on her badge only affirmed this theory. Reyes looked tired, but not unapproachable, lifting her head and smiling as the two of them approached. 

“Hello. Can I help you two?” 

Dick nodded, and Jason let him take the lead. He had always been the more social, more friendly Robin. Not to say Jason was unfriendly or anti-social, but Dick just had this magic when it came to talking to strangers. 

“Mhm! My brother and I—”

That took Jason by surprise, but he didn’t show it. Brother was a good cover, especially when they both shared several physical similarities like the black hair and blue eyes, but still. Dick being welcoming of Jason’s presence was just another strange unknown he decided to ignore for now.   
  
“—were wondering if you knew about any places that sold regular clothes here. We were in the changing room and putting on our Robin cosplays when this guy just took our clothes and ran. And we don’t really want to walk home dressed like this in public, it’d be kinda embarrassing.” 

Damn, he was good. 

Jason played along, joining in completely. “Not to mention lame. You convinced me to dress up like Robin because I’m not tall enough to be Batman and you couldn’t think of any other character. If any of my friends see me dressed like this I will literally die.” 

Was it unoriginal to make fun of himself while undercover? Yes. But was it ineffective? Absolutely not. 

Reyes looked sympathetic, but not overly alarmed by the mention of stolen clothes. Downplaying that part of the story was key, because he didn’t want to start anything that would draw too much attention. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. To my knowledge, all the stuff you’re gonna find here will be absurdly overpriced merch, which I’ll be more than happy to direct you to if you want to spend your money on it. However, I suspect you don’t want to blow all your allowance on emergency clothes, right?”

They both nodded, playing along. “Right.”

Reyes smiled thoughtfully, then waved them over as she started walking. “This happens every year at Con, but we’re prepared. Since this convention center holds a lot of events regularly, we have a well-established lost and found. If the owner of something doesn’t claim it within a month, we put the clothes into storage and send everything else off to Goodwill.”

She pulled out a key and inserted it into the handle of a wooden door marked “STAFF”. “We’ll charge you a dollar per article of clothing, but that’s about it. Feel free to look around, and if you need to change, just close the door. I’ll be out here, alright? I won’t leave until you’re done.”

Her kindness and empathy was a little bit suspicious, but it also checked out. The closet was lined with metal racks holding different bins marked with tape labels. It was small, too small to hold a trap, and the door was thin enough that if they screamed for help, people would hear them. If they had to, Jason suspected his combined strength with Dick’s could even knock down the door if needed. 

“Thank you so much!” Dick beamed. “R, I’m gonna look around first. Mind waiting out here?”

Keep watch, more or less. Just in case. 

“Yeah, I don’t care. Just don’t take forever.” Jason leaned against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. Reyes mirrored him on the other side of the door while Dick entered and shut the door. 

There was a beat, a moment of silence between them. Jason hesitated in asking Reyes any questions that would, while incredibly useful to him, be suspicious to anyone else. But if he worded things right, it could work…

“So, when does the Con officially end? These things last multiple days, right?” Jason didn’t actually know much about Cons, but he figured out bits and pieces from info he’d overheard over the years. 

Reyes bobbed her head in confirmation. “Yep. This one ends on the 3rd, on Sunday. That’s usually when we have the least amount of people, believe it or not.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“Well,” She started, “Today is when all the freelance creators have everything in stock. They aren’t sold out yet, and that means people get first dibs on things that they want. By the third day, a lot of things are either sold out. Still, that doesn’t mean people can’t have fun, since a lot of professionals know how to pace themselves over the course of ComicCon.”

Oh, yes. This was great. Unintentional or not, Reyes was giving him a really good amount of information. The con lasted three days, the end was on Sunday, the 3rd(month was unknown, still), and today was the start of the con, meaning it was Friday, the 1st. 

Time travel was sounding more and more like the answer, especially when last he’d checked, it was Monday, August 8th. 

“Do you ever want to join in? I mean, like, dress up and walk around?” 

Reyes stared off into the crowds, and for a moment Jason wondered if she’d heard him. But eventually, she shook her head. “It’s cool to see what people make, and some of this stuff looks genuinely cool, but it’s not my cup of tea.” 

It looked like she could say more, but Dick opened the door before she could decide to continue. In his arms, he had a bundle of colorful clothing, the shirts from earlier, and three pairs of sneakers. 

“I guessed your size.” Dick said simply as he tossed Jason a pair of red sweatpants, the t-shirt, and some worn black sneakers. “Wanna try it on?” 

Jason was gonna ask why Dick was still in costume, but the answer was obvious. No risking even the possibility of people knowing their real identities. 

Jason looked at the clothes momentarily, hit with a wave of memories of times when he had gone thrift shopping with his mom before Bruce found him. “Sure.” 

He slipped into the closet and shut the door, making sure it was locked. He’d normally check for bugs or cameras as well, but if Dick trusted the closet, so did he. 

Off came the suit, and on went the clothes. The shirt was starchy from being so new, and smelled slightly of a factory. The pants were soft and warm, and while they were baggy, it wasn’t uncomfortably so. And the sneakers would fit great with a pair of socks, though he could do without if needed. 

All in all, Dick did a great job. Jason returned to the costume, folded the civvies for later, and unlocked the door. “You guessed correctly.”

Dick smiled. It wasn’t the bright smile Nightwing wore whenever he was with the Titans or Alfred, or a blank, complacent smile he’d wear at galas when talking to the guests Bruce invited. It was a smile that said he was proud of himself for choosing correctly, and nothing else. Self-satisfaction.

And yanno what? He deserved it. After knowing Jason for less than an hour, he’d been able to choose clothes that fit him, and that Jason liked, instead of the bright yellow pants in Dick’s arms that Jason suspected were for the acrobat himself. 

Jason handed Reyes a $10 from their allowance (he didn’t have enough ones for the actual $9 that they owed) with a grateful smile. “Thank you so, so much for understanding.” 

She waved a hand. “Psht, it’s nothing. Like I said, this isn’t the first time its happened, and it certainly won’t be the last. Do you two need any help on anything else?”

Dick shared a look with Jason. “Is there?” 

There was, plenty, but like before, they couldn’t really ask without breaking cover and drawing suspicion. 

“No, there isn’t. Thank you so much, ma’am.” They had to change and find R5 sooner rather than later. 

Reyes, satisfied by the finality of his statement, nodded and walked off to go help someone else after locking the closet. Jason and Dick, armed with clothes for themselves and R5, were left to find a bathroom to change in. There’d been one over by where Jason had initially met R5 and Dick, but trying to walk back would probably be more effort than needed. Instead, they’d just have to walk along the perimeter. 

“She was nice.” Dick hummed, eyes watching for the universal bathroom signs. 

Jason agreed. She was nice, and it was honestly refreshing talking to people with no ulterior motives or murderous urges while in costume. “I figured out some stuff from her as well. Apparently, it’s Friday the 1st today. Couldn’t ask the month or year, but she gave away the day for free.” 

“Friday the 1st…” Dick muttered, obviously processing the information. “That could be October. Actually, not very far in the past if I’m correct.” 

Jason stared. “How do you know that off the top of your head?”

“Some basic counting. Anyways, you’re from the future, right? So does it align with anything you know?” 

Jason mulled it over as he headed towards a bathroom close by. Dick implied he was from late fall, probably October or November, and Jason surmised knowing exactly how old Dick was would probably be a good idea, but the keystone in unraveling all of this was the year and month. “It was March 8th for me, and that’d mean the 1st of March would fall on a Sunday. So no, nothing matches for me either.” 

He opened the door to the bathroom and held it open for Dick, because while he did grow up in a...rougher environment than most, he still had decency. Dick walked in with a nod and entered one of the stalls, Jason following after. 

“Looking for a poster or book could work.”

“Publication date?” Jason gently placed his batman equipment away from where it had the risk of falling into the toilet. “And recent events. It works, especially since newspapers aren’t really as common as before.” 

“Yeah. And both are likely to be at an event like this. We just need to look for it.” Dick’s voice floated from over the stalls. 

Jason, having completely removed what he could from his costume, placed it in the tote bag before switching to his civvies. “And find R5. He said he was looking for information, so maybe he already knows what we don’t.” 

Jason wanted to be more specific, but anyone could be listening in. 

“Probably. He’s likely still on the comms, so we can just call him over after this.” 

The sound of a door opening lined up with the moving source of Dick’s voice. Jason tugged on his sneakers, checked to make sure he didn’t leave anything out of the bag, then grabbed it as he exited the stall. 

Dick turned, and Jason couldn’t help but let out a soft, “Woah.”

He looked even younger than Jason thought. Without the domino mask and bright colors(Well, he still was wearing fucking bright yellow pants, but the shirt and shoes were achromatic), Dick looked like just some kid. 

Dick obviously was having similar thoughts as he looked Jason over. Their eyes locked, blue on blue, and they shared a grin. 

“Jason Todd. Nice to meet cha, Goldie.” He held out his hand for a handshake. 

Dick took it after a moment's hesitation(probably because of Jason’s nickname), gripping it tightly. “Richard Grayson, but please, call me Dick.” 

Jason shook his head with a laugh. “You know, if you didn’t want to attract attention you’d use a modern diminutive like Rick.” 

“Yeah, but that’s too boring, don’t you think?” The acrobat rolled his eyes, but it was with a smile. He offered silently to hold Jason’s bag, but a simple shake of the head was enough to deter the first Robin. 

Instead, the two of them walked out of the bathroom, ready for whatever came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing anything for this fandom, but after reading Batman: The Brave and the Bold #13 and Cdelphiki's [ Life Happens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779667?view_full_work=true), I got hit with inspiration so hard that a semi would be jealous. 
> 
> However, as the tags say, this is a rough draft. Things will be changed, there will be some inconsistencies, and some grammatical errors. I've tried to catch as many as I could for the sake of a pleasurable reading experience, but if you find something I've missed, please, let me know!
> 
> If you'd like to be a beta/proofreader, please contact me via email at those2peeps@gmail.com or via Discord(My tag is Fluff#0929). And please, if you liked it, leave a comment or kudos! The amount of joy I get whenever an Ao3 notif for my works pops up in my inbox is immeasurable.


	2. In which Dick Grayson is confused, Damian is tired, and somehow no one dies

_Location: Unknown_  
_Date: Friday the 1st, unknown month and year_  
_Time: Unknown_

Dick Grayson was not ready for what was to come. 

To put it lightly, the past hour had been hell. He’d found himself in the middle of a crowd when he should have been flying through the air, leaping from building to building after Batman. But with a single blink, he was no longer airborne, no longer draped in the darkness of Gotham’s night. 

Weird, but nothing like finding a clone of Superman in an underground basement. Probably one of Gotham’s many villains fooling around with a gadget he accidentally jumped into the path of. 

With no limbs missing, his mind intact, and the lack of a nightmarish hellscape induced by Fear Toxin, it initially seemed pretty mundane. Just find Batman, ask what happened while he was gone, then maybe treat himself to some of Alfred’s homemade gelato afterwards. Maybe call the school and make up an excuse for why he was missing, but he knew Gotham Academy could care less. 

Dick had been just about ready to ditch the crowds and call Batman on his comm when he’d heard unfamiliar voices on the public channel. The one he used whenever Miss Martian couldn’t set up a telepathic link, or when he and Batman were working with another hero. 

_“Hey, is anyone listening? It’s me, Robin.”_

That was the moment when things shifted to mildly annoying to “Definitely not normal”.

Dick’s mind ran past a million different possibilities as his stomach did triple backflips. A clone, like Conner? An alternate universe? 

He listened, to see what this “Robin” would say next. He had to get more information. He needed a better grasp on the situation before charging in. B had drilled this into him time and time again, and now was a good time to finally listen. 

The voice didn’t sound like his, but with the possibility of alternate realities on the table, something as small as a different voice didn’t matter. Conner sounded different than Uncle Clark. 

_“Todd?”_

Another new voice, this one slightly accented. But it wasn’t like the accent Dick had naturally, the one he hid under the standard Gothamite to draw less attention. This was Middle Eastern, but with a hint that whoever was speaking had been educated with British English, not American. 

Okay, so there were now two unknowns on the private radio channel Batman operated on. And the one calling himself Robin was known as Todd to the accented boy. 

Dick didn’t know any Todds, but if the other Robin truly did go by the name Todd, he could maybe rule out the alternate dimension and clone theories? 

Maybe. He had to get more info, had to get every piece of the puzzle available. Batman wasn’t just a detective because he guessed. 

_“Who’re you?”_

_“Tt. Your stupidity and lack of tact are as maladroit as always.”_

Okay? So Accent Boy knew Todd Robin, but Todd Robin didn’t know him. Accent’s way with words and comfortability with insulting Todd Robin implied he felt close with Todd, or at least decently familiar. 

Alternate dimensions were sounding more and more likely with every word. But if that was the case, could he even trust Batman and Todd Robin? What if, in this universe, they were the evil ones and Joker was the good guy?

Ha, no. That wouldn’t be possible anymore, not with Earth-3 properly dealt with years ago. But the idea was. He couldn’t use any of the information from his world as a base, because alternate dimensions always had something different. Always. 

The flipping feeling in his stomach hardened into a heavy weight, sitting in his gut like lead. Maybe he’d been foolish to say Fear Toxin was worse than this. At least he knew how to deal with Fear Toxin. 

The two strangers talked over the comms, trying to meet up. For Accent Boy, it was probably to figure out why “Todd” didn’t recognize him. For Todd Robin, it was probably to figure out why Accent boy _did_. They bantered back and forth a bit, but it wasn’t playful or fun, not like how Dick did it. They sounded so confused. So...lost. 

Dick listened to it all, silent as the night. Todd Robin and Accent talked about where Todd Robin was and what Todd Robin had experienced. A Harley Quinn lookalike, ew. They were on the topic of clothing when Accent cut himself off, and the heavy feeling in Dick’s stomach dropped like a stone, burying itself in his innards. 

What’d happened? 

Todd Robin expressed similar concerns, and Dick was so, so close to revealing he’d been listening and asking the same thing, when his eyes connected with a familiar combination of yellow, red, and green. 

A boy wearing a version of his costume. Not a copy, but a variation. One with a lot more black, and one with, weirdly enough, pants. 

The boy was staring at him, finger still touching the inside of his ear _like he’d been talking to someone using a comm_.

Dick stared back, unsure of what to do. Was this Todd? Was it Accent Boy? Or was it just a Robin look alike, like the Harley Quinn Todd described earlier? 

The not-Robin took a step towards Dick, body language indicating that he meant no harm. His movements were slow and deliberate, yes, but in a placating manner. He was trying to silently, maybe even subconsciously, convince Dick that he was not a foe. 

The Batman in Dick’s mind warned him to run. To not trust anyone, to rely on himself and himself alone. But the Grayson in him said to give the not-Robin a chance. To scope things out even if there were risks attached. 

He ended up listening to himself. 

“Who are you?”

Not-Robin’s face puckered, but he didn’t look particularly offended. Just annoyed, maybe even defeated. Todd was talking on the comm about night wings or something, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to it. His eyes were locked onto not-Robin, who with a single sentence confirmed he was the accented boy when he asked Todd Robin to shut up. 

After Todd Robin quieted, the not-Robin, Accent Boy, focused fully on Dick. His eyes were completely masked by the white on the domino masks, but Dick knew they were trained on him, taking in Dick for all he was. 

“...You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.” 

What?

The not-Robin circled around him, like he was a suit on display, before giving a huff of approval. “I assume I am a complete stranger to you, correct? Your face is as expressive as always.” 

The same familiarity the boy had for Todd Robin, but towards him. Was this Robin a dimension hopper? 

“Um, yeah.” He could have said anything else and it would have been more intelligent. Dick decided to blame it on the exhaustion of being awake so long. 

Not-Robin clicked his tongue with a sigh. “I will say this once, and once only. T20-9-13-5.”

A basic code, one anyone could figure out with some basic ciphering, but meaningless if they didn’t know the implications it held. 20-9-13-5, the code for Time Travel. Specifically, for someone from the future coming to the past. Reversed it’d be…

“T19-8-12-4.” Dick answered. 

The not? Robin nodded sagely. “I was unsure if you’d been taught it yet, but it appears you have. That makes everything much simpler to explain.” 

Dick supposed it did, in a way. If the boy knew him from the future, then it meant he probably knew Todd Robin from the future as well. But how far in the future? He didn’t even want to think of why the boy was wearing his colors, and why Todd had taken his mother’s nickname for him, but he supposed that his future self had to have given up the name and colors willingly. He had to trust in that self. 

“You’re from the future, right? What do you need to know?” 

Future Robin mulled it over. “How old are you, and what is the most significant thing that has happened as of recent?”

“13,” Dick answered easily, “and I wanna say it was the kidnapping of Selena Gonzalez. We believed that she was a target of the League of Shadows.” 

“The League of _Shadows_?” Future Robin sounded oddly discomfited with the name. 

Why though? It was the League. Unless they managed to completely eradicate the League soon, there wouldn’t be a reason to act so weirdly about it. They were like a cockroach, never unable to truly die and always there to remind you of it. 

“Did something happen to them?” 

The boy paused, before shaking his head. “We can discuss everything once we locate Todd. To put it simply, we are both your successors, and I suspect it will take the efforts of all of us to stop whatever caused this.” 

His successors. To have it be confirmed, to be said so simply…

“Did I die?” He couldn’t help himself. 

The boy snorted. “Your enemies would hope so, but to their disappointment, you still are irritatingly capable of putting their schemes to an end. No, you simply passed on the mantle as you grew up.” 

Dick couldn’t imagine ever giving Robin up, not after everything he’d done. Couldn’t imagine giving some other kid his mother’s nickname for him. But the way Future Robin phrased it, his future self grew out of being a sidekick like Red Arrow had with Speedy. Meaning that Future Robin here was kinda like his Artemis, in a way. Okay, yeah, he could work with that. 

“I see. So then this Todd guy should know me too, right?” 

“Correct.” 

It was so weird, talking to someone who knew more about himself than he did. But that’s what happened with time travel. “Then yeah, we should probably find him. Have an idea of what direction?” 

Future Robin pointed at a stall, and wordlessly, they walked through the crowds. 

-0-

Todd Robin was not at all like Future Robin. His costume was a lot closer to Dick’s, only with minute differences such as the shoes, the way he styled his hair, and the slightly more fancy tech on his belt. 

And also the first thing he said when they locked eyes had been “Fuck”, which Alfred definitely wouldn’t have approved of, but that was a different matter entirely. 

The weirdest thing about him, funnily enough, was the way he looked at Dick. Not the shocked, surprised look that Future Robin had given him, or the look he’d made when Future Robin said the code for time travel. 

It was a look of admiration, one with wonder and respect for a personal hero. Dick had gotten that look as Robin from kids whenever he ran into them at night, but not from another kid dressed as him. Another kid who would apparently succeed him as Robin. 

They talked, and while Dick was burning with curiosity to learn who Future Robin and Todd Robin were, if he knew them at all, he also understood better than most the importance of keeping identities secret. And thus, for the time being, they were dubbed R1, R2, and R5 respectably. 

Todd was the one he would eventually pass the mantle to. He looked about Dick’s age, but when Todd had become Robin could be any age up until now. He could have been 9 when Dick gave him the name Robin, like he had been when he’d joined Batman. Or he could have just been released out onto the streets after completing Batman’s rigorous training. It was impossible to tell without asking, and Dick didn’t feel like it was the right time or place for such a question. 

So he went on with some small talk, coordinated a plan on how to obtain more clothing other than basic t-shirts(while he was fine walking around in a leotard, Dick had to admit that it did draw attention, especially away from places where it’d be appropriate like a circus or ballet studio), and executed it. Todd played along perfectly, and with the help of a staff member named Reyes, they managed to find enough clothes for the three of them for under $10. 

And finally, after reaching a bathroom, it was time to change. He had to admit, it felt odd changing into his civilian identity with a stranger, especially when Todd’s identity had only been validated by another stranger, but R5 made it clear he was an ally with the code. 

  
Ah yes, the code. Batman had only ever mentioned it in passing, but it’d stuck. Especially when he learned time travel was something that realistically happened in the business. Cool, but freaky too. 

He was completely out of his Robin costume now, the only remaining piece being his domino mask. He really wished he had a pair of sunglasses on him, so he’d at least have some sort of privacy like when he was out with The Team. 

Whatever, no going back now. 

Dick unlocked the bathroom stall and moved over to the sink to wash his hands. Even if he hadn’t used any of the facilities, he was well-aware how disgusting public bathrooms were. Alfred would have approved of his actions. 

There was a telling click behind Dick, and he turned to come face to face with Todd, in his true form. He looked young, much younger than when he had the suit on, and had a sort of lean quality to him, as if he had eaten just a bit less food than he needed at every meal. But his blue eyes were bright and full of life. 

“Woah.” Todd couldn’t help but vocalize Dick’s own thoughts as they condensed. This was his successor. This was a future Robin.

Todd made the first move, holding his hand out for a handshake. Not exactly the place Dick would have expected him to meet a future teammate, but hey, at least it was unique. “Jason Todd. Nice to meet cha, Goldie.” 

Todd was his last name, interesting. Well, knowing that, Dick was definitely going to call him Jason from now on. It was weird for R5 to address them by last names, unless somehow R3 or R4 had the same first names as them. 

And then there was his nickname, “Goldie”. It was weird, because Dick knew for a fact he didn’t have gold hair. And he didn’t wear any gold, just yellow. He’d have to ask about it later.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Dick took Jason’s hand and shook it, gripping it tightly. “Richard Grayson, but please, call me Dick.” 

Jason shook his head with a laugh, which, hey, was a better reaction than the confusion or disgust when he asked to be called by his nickname. “You know, if you didn’t want to attract attention you’d use a modern diminutive like Rick.” 

Dick had a feeling that his future self and Jason had talked about this before, by Jason’s cheeky tone. Dick rolled his eyes for the theatrics of it all, but couldn’t suppress the natural grin that formed either.

“Yeah, but that’s too boring, don’t you think?”

Jason said nothing, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. Dick made an offer to hold his successor’s bag, it was the polite thing to do, but Jason didn’t accept. 

Independent, he liked it. Now dressed as civilians, the two of them would have a much easier time blending into the crowds. Maybe he’d be recognized as Bruce Wayne’s adopted son, but he had plenty of practice outrunning and avoiding people. 

Dick opened the door, bowing dramatically as he said in an imitation of Alfred’s voice, “After you, Master Jason.”

“You’re a real asshole, you know.” Jason smirked, walking past into the convention center.

Dick just let the smile return to his face. This was fun, joking around with a kid who understood. Wally was one thing, knowing Dick both in and out of the mask, but he was still a speedster. Jason was a Robin, and knew exactly what that meant. Dick could tell from the way R2 had looked at him when they first met. “It’s all part of my natural charm. You’re just jealous you don’t have it.”

“Yeah, charm, whatever you wanna tell yourself. Are we planning on finding Rob, or gathering info and finding him along the way? He didn’t seem like he would leave the building, so it won’t be hard getting to him either way.”

Dick wished wearing comm units in the open was a normal fashion trend, but alas, it wasn’t and would only draw attention to two “normal” teens who definitely shouldn’t have access to that kind of tech.

“I say we try to find more info. Robbie’s fine on his own, if he needs to find us he will. I think him finding the others is more important. Birds of a feather, and all that.” He let his mouth do the talking, not really registering what he exactly was saying, only that it wasn’t a big deal to find R5 at the moment.

Jason looked like he agreed, so Dick assumed as such. 

He continued, “Meaning, we should work off of what we have. The date here is Friday the 1st, year, month, and location unknown. Motive or reason behind this, also unknown. Danger level, unknown. Anything I missed?”

“Organization or person behind this, unknown.” Jason added. “We can try to rule out people like Killer Croc or Clayface, this doesn’t seem like a scheme they could think up. However, there’s too many villains out there for this to be efficient, and those bastards could be from any time as well. Shit, maybe the guy who did this isn’t even alive yet!” 

This is exactly why time travel was a headache. 

“Well, if they wanted to tell us who they were and why they were doing it, then they’re not doing a good job. So I say we put that on the backburner until either everything else is known or it's suddenly relevant. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Jason ran a hand through his hair, watching the crowds around them. “Let’s try to find a poster.”

Now that they were out of the Robin costumes, it was easier to be inconspicuous. To blend in with those not so colorfully dressed and pass by without so much as a blink of an eye. The anti-Robin, funnily enough. 

It wasn’t long before they found what they were looking for. A poster, handmade, exclaiming the limited time offer of the seller’s wares. Jewelry, it seemed. But more importantly was the dates listed below the offers. 

November 1st, 2019 to November 3rd, 2019. 

There would be no reason for the sign to be outdated, as it was just some cheap poster board with permanent marker words. So, logically, this was correct. 

Dick and Jason exchanged glances, and Dick was pretty sure they were thinking the same thing. Being stuck in the future had both its benefits and drawbacks, but the latter far outweighed the former. 

What if Dick had died in between 2010 and 2019, and he ran into someone who’d last seen his body in a casket? R5 said that he’d been alive, but R5 also could have been from before November 1st, 2019. 

“Motherfucker, almost a whole decade.” 

Dick turned away from the sign, wanting to stay on track. He could wait to let the ramifications of this truth sink in. “Let’s try to find out where we are. If Gotham ends up this...bright in a decade, then I’m betting magic was involved. There’s no other way you could get rid of the perpetual dark skies and tense atmosphere.” He pointed up at the glass ceiling to make a point, where the sky was still unremarkably blue. 

Jason’s eyes lingered for an extra moment. “Yeah. I bet that if we go near the entrance they should have some sort of banner saying something like ‘Gotham 12th Annual ComicCon’ or something. Most events like this usually do.”

They made their way towards the entrance in silence, the playful energy replaced with a sensitivity for everything around them. They didn’t belong in this time, not as they were. Dick would almost be 23, and if that wasn’t a doozy to think about he didn’t know what was. 

They found a banner, eerily similar in wording to what Jason had said offhandedly. Only difference was that it wasn’t Gotham. It was Boston.

Boston, one of Gotham’s louder East Coast cousins, was not a place they ever really visited. Dick knew it was in Massachusetts, he knew it was decently crime-ridden and just as miserable in the winter, but he’d never really needed to step foot inside its limits. 

“I had a friend from Boston, a few years back.” Jason said, trying at a conversation. Welcoming the distraction, Dick accepted the attempt to make things feel more normal. 

“Really? What were they like?” 

Jason shoved his hands in his pants pockets, watching the world move outside the center’s doors. “His name was Ravi. Lived alone, though he had girlfriends come by from time to time. Really smart guy when it came to anything involving music. I think he had perfect pitch, or was just really good at recognizing notes. Invited me over for dinner once, when he made a few extra bucks helping tutor some kid. Always said that he regretted moving to Gotham, but never made any move to come back here.” 

“That sounds nice.” Dick offered, not knowing what else to say.

Jason exhaled, looking more tired than Dick felt. “It was. Even if my childhood there was dogshit, the good people there made it a little less horrible. We watched out for each other.” 

Another silence passed between them, but it was a lot less tense than before. More like a blanket of calm as they both came to terms of their situation. 

“Tt. Of course you two are here.” The accented lilt of R5 came from behind him. Dick turned and gave a gentle wave to their companion. 

“What do you mean, of course? Do we just stand together in the lobbies of random convention buildings in the future?” Jason teased. 

R5 scowled in response. “Did you acquire proper attire for me as well, or are you as selfish as you are stupid?”

Dick tossed him the shirt and pants from the depths of his tote bag, and Jason took out the shoes after cursing R5 under his breath. 

“We didn’t forget, don’t worry. Did you find R3 and R4?” 

“And watch your fucking mouth next time, twerp.” Jason added. 

R5’s scowl deepened as he looked over the clothes, but he didn’t openly object. “No, I did not. We may have been lucky enough to avoid their idiotic prescences.” 

“So you’re saying you think it's just the three of us?” Dick asked, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against a wall. “Wonder why it’d be us specifically.” 

R5 rolled his eyes and moved towards the lobby bathroom, most likely to change. Once out of earshot, Jason let out a long, exaggerated groan. 

“What was B thinking with this one? Rob’s got worse manners than most of the thugs B beats up.” 

Dick had been thinking something similar, but then again, Bruce had taken in a circus performer and Jason, who seemed like he came from a rough neighborhood from his brief description of Ravi. Dick wasn’t in any position to judge who Bruce let in and out of his life. 

“Maybe it's just nerves. He may be worried about why R3 and R4 aren’t here, and could be thinking about what happened to them.” 

Jason shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s just how he is. But hey, points for trying.” 

“Ah yes, at least I have my unimportant effort points.” He joked. “Anyways, I wanna wait for Robin to finish changing before really getting into this, but going off of what we know, what do we want to make our objective?”

“For starters, probably trying to get in contact with whoever’s in charge of our future team. Ask for help, resources, and shit. Normally I’d say we do this on our own, but I don’t like how little we know or have available to us.” 

It all sounded reasonable. Safe, maybe a little boring, but reasonable. And right now, that’s what they needed. Dick could return to death-defying flips off of skyscrapers once his life returned to normal and he was safely in 2010. 

“Should we try to contact the manor with a phone? Look for him while he’s out on patrol and intercept him while in uniform? Or maybe just walk up to the front door and knock?” Dick spitballed, saying whatever came to mind. 

“We call him.” R5’s voice rang. Dick looked over to see a kid a bit shorter than himself with emerald green eyes and a sour expression. “I’m sure Father will be understanding, as I have only traveled forward by a few months.” 

Wait. 

_Wait._

“Father?” Jason beat him to it. “Don’t tell me that you mean—”

“—I absolutely do, Todd. I am Damian al Ghul-Wayne. And yes, it is the al Ghul you’re thinking of.” He cut off Jason, looking almost bored to answer such a question. 

An awkward silence passed between them. 

“...What the actual fuck, Bruce. We need to have to have a talk.” Jason eventually muttered, and Dick shared the sentiment. He understood the purpose of Brucie, but come on Bruce, at least have some kind of restraint.

“I assure you, he’s already heard it. Your words would be wasted, though it’s not as if that’s ever stopped you.”

“Okay, how about we just calm down. Damian, please give him a call and let him know what’s going on. There’s no need to be rude.” He had to play peacekeeper, or else blood would end up being spilt. He could already see it in their eyes. 

“Whatever, he isn’t worth my time.” Jason joined Dick in leaning against the wall. 

Damian handed Dick his Robin suit, took out a smartphone, and tapped the only emergency contact listed. “Tt, fine.” 

While he didn’t explicitly lean right next to Damian to hear whatever the response would be, Dick did move closer. One ring...two...three…

 _“I’m sorry, the number you are calling does not exist. Please check to see if there was an input error.”_

Dick eyed Jason, somehow knowing that he’d want to make some quip at this outcome. Jason rolled his eyes in return, but thankfully stayed silent as Damian input the number manually. 

_“I’m sorry, the number…”_

The message carried on as before, in the same dull tone. 

“Well, fuck.” Jason said tiredly, pushing himself away from the wall fluidly. “Think he changed it?”

Damian scowled. “The Manor’s number would never change after only a few months, not when it’s been the same for decades.” 

Dick agreed. Batman may have been paranoid, but not Brucie Wayne. Not Alfred. They didn’t have a reason to change the number, and they were certainly powerful enough to keep it. The number Damian put into the phone was the same number Dick knew by heart. “Hey, never say never. We can just go with Plan B.”

“Which is?” Jason’s tone didn’t quite sound disbelieving, but it was close. 

“Which is that we gain his attention personally. Normally I’d say going out in costume would be good enough, but three of us could make him think it was just Clayface or some sort of illusion. So instead, we go to him as we are, Dick, Jason, and Damian. Walk up the front door, give Alfie a heart attack, and then explain what we know.” 

Dick watched for their reactions, but neither of his companions looked particularly for or against the plan. Just tired enough to go along with anything that wasn’t bordering on stupid or life-threatening. 

“Sure. What’re we gonna do to get there? Bus? I don’t wanna pay the shitload of cash a taxi would take up.” Jason’s hands were back in her pants pockets. 

Damian looked thoroughly disgusted at the mere thought of public transportation, but to Dick’s relief didn’t voice his clear disapproval. Instead, he just frowned. “Leaving the scene of the crime is usually inadvisable, but in certain...circumstances, it can’t be helped. We can alternate turns resting on the journey back. I will take the first shift.” 

“What? No, I should. I’m technically the oldest.” Dick argued. Even if they turned out to be physically older, he was born first chronologically. He was the first Robin, and as far as he concerned these kids were his proteges. 

Jason just shook his head as he started walking towards the entrance, tote bag slung over his shoulder. “I don’t give a shit as long as it's not me. I’m beat.” 

Damian’s piercing gaze landed on Dick, and he almost felt threatened. Almost. Their staring contest continued for what seemed like way too long for some stupid argument Dick didn’t need to be in, until finally Damian blinked, turning away with a huff. “I will concede the first shift to you, only if you allow me to take the second.” 

“Deal. Now let’s go before we possibly miss the bus.” 

-0-

_Location: Boston Convention and Exhibition Center_  
_Date: Friday the 1st, November 2019_  
_Time: 1:11 pm_

He really shouldn’t have expected anything different from Grayson and Todd. 

It seemed that no matter what age they were, some things never changed. Grayson was still acting like the eldest despite not knowing of either Todd’s or his own existence an hour before. He was still prone to eye-bleedingly bright colors, as proved by his highlighter-yellow pants and Bane Venom-green sneakers. He still moved in his annoyingly inefficient flamboyant manner, and he still was good at leading a group through the unknown. 

Todd was still as foul-mouthed and blunt as always. However, unlike Grayson, he knew who one of them was. Damian had always heard that Jason never got to meet Grayson when he was Robin, only that he’d officially gotten to know his adopted brother after the Robin mantle was given up and Nightwing was born. By being able to meet Grayson as Robin, it was clear that Todd had some deep-routed curiosity as well as respect. Something that had been lost or covered up after his death. 

That was another notable difference, one more glaringly obvious than Grayson’s obscene fashion choices. Todd hadn’t experienced death. He’d have to have only been with Father for a few months, a year at best. He was so young, and compared to the future Damian knew, hopeful. He didn’t have the same bitterness that Red Hood emanated. 

It was quite honestly one of the more whiplash-inducing things Damian had endured since joining Father’s side as Robin. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed he hadn’t had to deal with a snivelling younger Drake or an ever-so-annoying Brown. He ended up deciding he was thankful.

Without Drake’s incompetence to drag him down, Damian had managed to gather a decent amount of information on where and when they were. It was currently precisely 1:13pm on Friday, November 1st, 2019, and he was at Boston Convention and Exhibition Center, Massachusetts. A villain with the ability to warp reality had managed to catch the three Robins unaware and bring them to the near future, for a reason unknown. Three Robins, who by Damian’s calculation, are all 14 and younger.

It honestly was seeming to be more of an inconvenience than a threat. No fight or monologues, no working against a glaring time limit, and no glaring deformations other than Grayson and Todd being their younger, inexperienced selves. 

However, just because it was an inconvenience didn’t mean it wasn’t infuriatingly confusing. He’d allowed Grayson to take the lead on the situation, as was his natural preference, and did his best not to make Todd’s death more swift. 

Currently, they were meandering down the filthy streets of Boston, looking for a bus station that was en route for Gotham, dead on their feet and laden with exhaustion. Grayson was clearly trying to put up an act that he could stay awake for another few hours while they took shifts on the trip back, but Damian was far from fooled. 

He’d just have to stay awake until Grayson inevitably nodded off, then continue until Todd’s turn. They couldn’t risk travelling blind, especially not when their situation was this confusing. Not when the three of them were all well known as Father’s children, adopted and by blood. Everything from ransoms to murder in a foolish act of revenge could happen, and Damian knew that blowing their cover was only a last resort option. 

“Goddamn, I can understand why no one would wanna go to Gotham, but come on. Not a single bus stop even had it on their map!” Todd blustered. 

While his manner of presenting his frustrations were still animalistic at best, Damian was feeling similarly. It was unusual to not even have Gotham on the map, especially for a city of that size. It was infamous, yes, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t home to several million people. 

“Perhaps we should consider a taxi service. Father will surely pay them in full when we arrive if we do not have the money for it ourselves.” 

“No, no, something about this is just...wrong.” Grayson interjected. “Jason’s right, Gotham not being on the map is a mistake once, a coincidence twice, and a pattern thrice. This is our fifth bus stop, with clear markers for everywhere from Trenton to Albany, but no Gotham. Normally I’d suggest that maybe something catastrophic happened in the decade we leapt through, but if Damian’s only from a few months before now, there’s no way the street signs would have all changed to get rid of Gotham. No city works that fast.” 

A sensation oddly close to dread settled over Damian’s body like fresh snow. “What are you proposing then, Grayson?”

His future mentor watched as the cars raced past, skin pale from the cold. “I don’t know exactly, but whatever it is isn’t good.” 

For a moment, all they could hear was the city around them and the unruly howl of the wind, racing past in bitingly cold gusts. The weight of his dread only grew, leeching his strength and leaving him as weak as a newborn child. Whatever the truth behind this was, it was something to be feared. 

Unexpectedly, it was Todd who pulled them out of the silence. “Then let’s find out. Damian, how good is your phone?”

“What do you define as ‘good’?”

“Can it access the internet?” Jason snapped, “If so, then I need you to look up Gotham. Now.” 

He hated being ordered around by Todd, but there was a logic behind his orders that Damian suddenly understood. He took out his phone, reset the location, and once it registered the current time and place on its screen, he typed in the name of his home for the last three years. 

_“Gotham City (/ˈɡɒθəm/ GOTH-əm), or simply Gotham, is a fictional city appearing in American comic books published by DC Comics, best known as the home of Batman. The city was first identified as Batman's place of residence in Batman #4 (December 1940) and has since been the primary setting for stories featuring the character.”_

The nonsensical drivel after the first sentence was instantly discarded, but the damage was already dealt. Fictional? Comics? No, this had to be a joke. It was Wikipedia after all, anyone could alter the information at will. 

He tapped away from the site and scrolled for a more reputable source. A news article. Anything. 

All he got were lies. 

“Damian?”

He shoved his phone towards Grayson, unwilling to keep reading what was obviously fabricated nonsense made to confuse them. It couldn’t be real, because that would imply that they weren’t. A blatant and obvious lie that could be found in an instant. 

Grayson gingerly took Damian’s phone from him, and Todd huddled close to read. The two were silent as they just scrolled through the websites and sources all claiming Gotham wasn’t real. That in its place were a bunch of small, worthless towns that had nothing important about them. 

“This is…” Grayson started, but never finished. His eyes just kept going over the information, as if by reading it enough the truth would show through. 

Todd had no such reservations on his reaction. “God-fucking-damnit, if we’re stranded on another Earth where this is the truth—”

“—It’s not. It can’t be.” Damian didn’t know why he sounded desperate. He wasn’t. 

“Well, Sherlock, have any other excuse for why all of us are different ages, why we’re in the future, why we’re in Boston, and why several sources are all claiming the place I was born doesn’t fucking exist? Please, enlighten us.” 

Damian’s mind raced, but all the answers he came up with had some falsity that could prove it wrong. There was no answer, at least one he knew and liked. 

His silence gave Todd all the verification he needed. “I thought so. Is there even a point to going to a place that doesn’t exist? We’re just wasting money and time.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to check. Bruce would be disappointed in all of us if we didn’t.” Grayson sighed, handing Damian’s phone back. “But we don’t have to do it now. Let’s just find a place to rest first, then we can continue when we wake up.” 

“Tt. Fine, I shall use the search function to locate a proper hotel.” 

Todd watched Damian carefully. “Make sure it’s cheap. I know it won’t feel the best, but if this is the truth then we need to be careful about our money. We don’t know when we’ll be able to get back, and none of us are old enough to get full jobs.” 

There was logic to it, no doubt about it, but that didn’t mean Damian had to like it. He hated the idea he could be stranded in a reality where this was the truth. Where he’d be forced to survive like some feral street cat.

Silently, they made their way across town to a basic inn with a suite outfitted with a double bed and couch. With some well thought out words and puppy eyes, they were able to convince the worker at the concierge that they were just kids told to check in while the parents unpacked the car, and were given two sets of keys for Room 312. 

They entered the painfully average room, set down the tote bags, made sure everything was locked, then promptly passed out on whatever looked remotely comfortable, with himself and Grayson on the bed and Todd on the couch. 

What had his life come to where this could be considered a reality? And what had happened to him to believe it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I tried to hold off to one update a week, because then I could pace myself and hopefully leave enough room so I'd never go a week without having material, but I figured I'd publish this chapter, seeing as the last one was more or less a prologue. From now on, however, I think I'll be doing one update a week. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely commenters from the last chapter! The support I've gotten is honestly what fueled me to post this so early(and I'm eager for more, whether its in the form of kudos or comments(or both!))
> 
> If you wanna chat, I can be found via email at those2peeps@gmail.com, on Discord at Fluff#0929, or on Tumblr [here! ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/msperfectsheep-posts)
> 
> Again, thank you all so much, and I'll see you here next time!
> 
> Msperfectsheep


	3. Stephanie Brown and her maybe-amnesiac maybe-Boyfriend go an Adventure

_Location: Unknown_  
_Date: Unknown_  
_Time: Unknown_

Stephanie Brown wasn’t usually one to act paranoid. 

In her unprofessional, yet completely valid, opinion, the hero industry had too much paranoia already, and desperately needed a good dose of faith, trust, and pixie dust. Then again, she also worked with one of the most infamously paranoid vigilante groups to have ever lived, the Bats and Birds of Gotham. 

So, when she found herself in the middle of a crowd when she’d been in the Batcave, alone with Batman, reviewing a list of criminals that escaped from Arkham earlier that evening and making a game plan on how to take them down, she managed to stop herself from mentally shutting down from the sensory overload. How, one may ask? 

She focused on the closest thing to her, and used that as a mental lifeline. 

Another Robin, Tim Drake’s Robin, her Robin. 

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best mental lifeline, but there was no going back now. She had to work through the situation slowly, ease herself into it. And that meant addressing the problem glaring her right in the face: Robin. 

“What’re you doing here?” She hissed, grabbing her idiot maybe ex-boyfriend(It was complicated, okay?) and dragging him into an empty, unmanned stall out of many nearby. “Your dad benched you for a reason!” 

He pulled his hand out of her grasp, masked eyes betraying suspicion from their shape. 

“My dad? What do you know about my dad?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and laced with deadly anger. 

Tim would never act this way, not with her. He knew her. They’d been through so much together. And that meant that whatever was going on was more than just being somehow kidnapped. Not like she suspected as much anyways, since neither of them were bound or isolated. 

Still, his tone scared her. His words, too. 

“Seriously? You’re not joking?” 

He regarded her, taking in the full Robin costume. “...No, I’m not.” 

Well, if he really didn’t recognize her, it was honestly a miracle he didn’t throw down a few smoke pellets and glide off to some random building. Maybe Steph’s lack of paranoia was finally wearing off on him, but she doubted it. It was most likely because her voice was familiar, and because he was too damn curious to not investigate what was going on. 

She looked around, made sure no one was watching them, then ducked under a covered folding table. She peeled off her domino mask, smoothed her hair, then called out in a voice only slightly louder than Tim’s, “If you wanna know who I am, here’s your chance Boy Wonder.” 

For a moment, his feet didn’t move, and Steph feared that he would just walk away. It would be a rational thing to do, especially if he had amnesia and didn’t understand why some random girl was wearing the Robin colors. But it was Tim, and he never gave up on the opportunity to learn more. 

He crouched and lifted the table cover, and their eyes met. 

“...Steph?” He nearly yelped her name, but she was quick enough to cover his mouth before it drew too much attention. 

Once it was clear he wasn’t going to irrationally freak out, she removed her hand. “Yeah, it’s me. Your classmate, Spoiler, your maybe-girlfriend, and Robin. Remember me now?”

“Uh, I definitely don’t remember the part where you became Robin. Or when I broke up with Cassie to date you.” He stammered, clearly still in shock. Steph suppressed a smile. He was such a dork. 

Reapplying her domino, she came back out from under the table. “Your dad benched you because he found out you were Robin. And we both know Batman can’t not have a Robin, so I volunteered after you pressured me into it, you jerk. Oh, and Cassie dumped you.” It felt so odd telling it to the one person who should know the story the best. 

“...And he just let you?” Tim asked, disbelieving. He held out a gloved hand to help her up, and she took it. 

“Well, yes and no. I forced him to let me, but I don’t think it was nearly as bad as when you tried. He wasn’t grieving, but he wasn’t normal either.” She searched his face, trying to find any proof of a brain injury that would cause this kind of amnesia. “Does your head hurt at all? Is there anything else you can’t remember?”

He shook his head slowly. “No...I feel fine. I was just—I was talking to Cassie about why I had to leave the Team, and then I blinked, and I was here. With you.” 

The blink. They shared the blink. Tim was smart, he could probably figure out what happened if she let him start making connections. 

“That happened to me too. The blink, not the whole leaving ‘the Team’ thing, whatever that means. I was reading up on some Arkham escapees in the Cave, I blinked, and then boom, I was here.”

The look he got whenever he started thinking showed up, and Steph felt like giving herself a pat on the back for her prediction skills. Still, being in uniform in public was a bad idea, especially in daylight. It could attract reporters, villains, you name it. 

“Yo, Robin, I know that staying in the same position thinking for several hours is your thing, but we should scram before we start attracting attention.” She elbowed him gently, just in case he was hiding some broken ribs or bruises under the uniform. It thankfully worked without too much pain, drawing him out of his thought-coma. 

“Right, sorry. What were you thinking of doing to remedy that?” His white-lensed focus was on her. “Flee to the rooftops?”

“And find some civvies along the way.” She agreed. “We need to keep moving while we learn what’s going on, and definitely until we’re sure we’re safe. So, wanna race?” 

Tim grinned at her. “Of course. But first, we should at least try to make sure something bad we need to stop isn’t going on already. Best bet is finding a staff member, since they’ll likely have radios that can spread information quickly.” 

“Still a race, just instead of to rooftops it’ll be to a staff member. You’re on.” She shrugged, an impish grin matching his. 

They rushed through the crowds, careful not to bump or jostle anyone while doing so. No tools were allowed either, they’d decided in a moment of silent agreement. Just pure human senses, the primary one being sight. 

Still, they didn’t go far enough to stray out of sight. Just different aisles set up from tents, catching glimpses of each other as they raced past. And Steph knew that she’d lost when she didn’t see Tim mirroring her after a tent. She raced towards his position and found him talking to a staff member, smug energy from winning the footrace coming off of him in waves. 

She rolled her eyes and joined his side, staying silent to understand what angle he’d gone with. 

“—sure anything unusual has happened recently? Any suspicious persons or out of place devices?” 

The woman, who by the badge could be identified as Ms. Reyes, shook her head with a smile. “Nothing to report, Robin. You’re doing great, by the way.” 

Tim nodded. “We’re good then. Thanks for letting me know, Ms. Reyes.” 

He adjusted his cape, nodded at the worker, then started walking away. Steph followed, curious. “You just asked her like that?” 

“Yeah, I figured I might as well while in costume. She probably figured you were just a temporary partner, or perhaps a fangirl.” 

Steph was going to argue that currently, she was rightfully Robin, but Tim’s words did hold some weight. Ms. Reyes didn’t act like Steph was Robin, but Tim. She’d even complimented him. 

That was weird, but Steph couldn’t blame news for spreading slowly. The idea that Robin could be a girl was pretty far-fetched when the name had been held by boys for what, a decade? Plus, she did usually operate under the cover of night. 

“Temporary? Don’t tell me you’re planning on getting back with Wondergirl.” She teased, bumping him amiably. 

That did the trick. His face went red like it usually did when she got flirty, and it was worth it every time. “What? No, I...Up for a round 2? Real race this time, to the tallest building we can find.”

Not at all a smooth transition, but Steph wasn’t going to bully the poor boy more. “You’re on. We start the moment we leave the building.” 

“Deal.” 

They walked in tandem for the short period before the race, pausing at the front entrance. Steph’s fingers lingered over her grapple gun, and she could see Tim doing the same. 

“One.” His eyes were focused on the metropolis before them.

She smiled. What a dork. “Two.”

They both stepped forward as the glass sliding doors parted, and in sync said, “Three!”

-0-

Going out in the day, surprisingly, was very different than going out at night. The moment she shot her gun and latched onto a flagpole in front of a squat, squarish building, she could feel the civilian’s eyes on her as she flew. 

Wind rushed past her as she shot and ran from building to building, Tim slightly outrunning her on the opposite side of the street. It was a total adrenaline rush, and knowing that this was (mostly) for fun only made it better. Stephanie wanted to yell all her frustrations into the wind and watch them disappear behind her, but being dressed in the bright Robin costume was already attention-catching enough.

Strangely enough, this wasn’t Gotham, and it wasn’t just the lack of night making her say that. The layout and architecture of this city was totally foreign, and it took her a moment to realize that she ended up being slightly closer to the tallest building she could reasonably climb. 

She laughed, “TAKE THAT, TIM!” knowing that he wouldn’t hear it, as she swung to the left and made her way to a massive skyscraper covered entirely in reflective glass. He’d won by chance with finding Ms. Reyes, but she’d gotten the luck of the draw with this race. And to her delight, he was far, far behind, no more than a red and yellow blip in the background. 

She couldn’t reasonably reach the top with her grapple gun, and Tim would learn that too upon closer inspection. However, she could totally access the roof with an elevator. 

But she wasn’t gonna waste the effort. Instead, she just jumped down to the ground, waited until she was sure Tim could see her, then tapped the building. Afterwards, she shot her grapple to a nearby church and balanced on its steep roof, smiling so wide it almost hurt. 

“I win.” 

He slid next to her, hair thoroughly ruffled from the high speed swinging he’d done. Steph was pretty sure her hair would also be a disaster, if not for her headband. 

“Yeah, you did. Now, clothes?” 

“Yep. I was gonna say thrift store, but it may be easier just to go through a donation box.” She sat on the roof, trying to calm her heartbeat a little. “Thoughts?”

He joined her side, clipping his grapple gun to his side. “I prefer we do a thrift store. Feels less like stealing. And those donation boxes have had some disgusting stuff dumped in them from random losers who mistook it for a trash can.”

Fair point. “How much cash do you have on you?”

“None. You?” 

She gaped at him. “Isn’t it standard procedure to carry money in case of absolute emergencies? Also, I have three $20s.” 

He ran his hand through his hair with a breathless laugh. “About that, I completely forgot to restock after dropping by a few coffee shops during the past few patrols.”

“Alfred’s gonna kill you.” 

“Not if he doesn’t find out.” Tim stood, stretching. “So, $60 and a thrift store. Sounds pretty good, honestly. We can then do some actual investigating without drawing attention.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “No contacting Batman?”

“How could we? Neither of us have our comm units in.” He gestured to his ear, which was very obviously missing the familiar black device. “I didn’t need one because I was on the phone with Cassie, and you were with Batman before a mission. Usually we put them in only after leaving the Cave.”

Steph slumped, wishing she’d had the precognition to put one in, but Tim was right as usual.   
“Oh yeah. So what do we do to contact him? Either you have amnesia or I have false memories of the future, and neither sounds particularly easy to deal with.” 

“Eugh.” He pulled a face as she suggested amnesia again, and Steph’s heart felt a pang of sympathy. Learning her career as Robin was fake wouldn’t be pleasant either. 

“Tim,” She started, but he cut her off.

“We’ll deal with that once everything else is secure. Make sure no civilians got caught up in whatever happened. And speaking of,” He gestured grandly to the cityscape before them. “This clearly isn’t Gotham.” 

He was very pointedly ignoring the amnesia thing, and Steph was going to honor his wishes until she couldn’t for the sake of his own health. “It’s a port city, and a huge one at that. It’s not New York though, the famous buildings are all missing. Still feels East Coast to me though.” 

Tim pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through his settings until he reset his location. The screen took a moment to load, and then,

“Boston, Massachusetts.” He sounded surprised. “Farther north than I suspected, but it checks out. According to Google, the average drive back home would be…”

She leaned over his shoulder, watching as he typed in “Boston, Massachusetts to Gotham, New Jersey”. The screen took a moment to load, but instead of an estimation of how long the journey would be and a map displaying how to get there, they were instead met with a route to “The Gotham, Jersey City.”

“That’s not right.” Tim’s brow furrowed and he enlarged the part of New Jersey where Gotham was located. 

But on the map, it was missing entirely, replaced by small towns. All the familiar roads and buildings she’d grown up running around, missing entirely. 

Steph felt a headache coming on. “Maybe Google’s on the fritz?” But she knew it was a weak excuse. The map of Boston looked immaculate, as well as the map of New York City. For some odd reason, Metropolis was missing as well, along with…

“The hero cities.” Tim said it just as Steph came to the realization. All the cities that were missing were famous for their hero inhabitants. Fawcett, home of Captain Marvel, gone. Metropolis, home of Superman, gone. Star City, home of Green Arrow, gone. “Most of them are missing.” 

“Most?” She quipped, confused. As far as she could tell, it was all the hero cities she knew of. 

Tim nodded. “Yeah, most. Look, Baltimore still exists. Guy Gardner, one of the Green Lanterns, lives there. New York is obviously still here, and there’s Chicago. A bunch of heroes have lived there, including Nightwing.” 

His finger pointed at the various locations as he said them, moving perfectly in sync with the tech that it was almost creepy. Steph watched with growing fascination. 

“So then why those cities, but not places like Gotham? What’s the pattern?” 

He sighed, tucking his phone in his pocket and watching the sky. “I don’t know yet, Steph, I’m sorry. But I’m willing to bet that this is only the beginning of a massive scheme to take over the world, destroy the Justice League, or both. And we somehow got swept up in its midst.” 

She swallowed, taking it in. She wasn’t like Tim in regards to having ever done something big with the Justice League. Yeah, she’d met some of the members once or twice, but she’d never gone on missions for them. She was “too young and inexperienced” according to Batman, which was bullshit. She knew Dick Grayson had been part of the Justice League’s covert ops unit when he was 13.  
  
Well, now was her chance to help them out. 

“Then we need to find allies, and fast. The more organized we are, the stronger a group assault will be.” 

“First stop would reasonably be Gotham, but if we landed in Boston, I’m willing to bet Bruce isn’t there either. He could be anywhere, which makes searching a bit harder.” Tim paced back and forth on the roof, silent with brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?” Steph prodded.

He shook his head. “We go from big city to city, purposefully trying to drop clues in different types of media on where we’re headed next. Ones only he would solve, or people who have worked with him. We trust them to come to us.” 

Steph thought it over. “That’s gonna take a lot of time, a lot of money, and a lot of trust that it’ll even work.” 

Tim nodded. “I know. But it’s also much safer than releasing a blatantly public statement when we don’t even have the barest of ideas regarding our enemy’s plans. Once we learn more, then we can make more calculated risky moves.” He stopped pacing, facing the blue horizon of the Atlantic ocean. 

She joined his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It was just as warm as always. “I trust you. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” 

And they just stood there, watching Boston, taking in the monumental task ahead of them. Maybe this was just a dream, and she’d wake up to find herself safe and sound in Gotham, and Tim was still staying with his father. But she doubted it. Steph knew that all Robins eventually had to do something great, something that helped save the world or those who defend it, and she had the feeling it was finally her time to shine. 

And with Tim by her side, the genius boy who had outsmarted foe after foe with his fast, tactical approach to problems, she had no doubt they would succeed if they played their cards right. It was only a matter of getting the cards in the first place that would be especially tricky. 

“Woah, the news reports weren’t lying.” A voice came from beneath them, and before Steph’s brain even registered what she was doing, she had a batarang in her hand. 

Climbing up the church’s roof was a teen dressed in a Robin costume. But unlike any Robin Steph had ever seen, in place of a mask the teen wore green tinted glasses, making it impossible to tell if her eyes were blue or green. That and, as far as Steph knew, there’d never been a red-haired Robin before. She was the first to deviate from black, actually. 

The red-haired Robin put one hand up in surrender, the other holding onto the roof for support. “Cool out dudes, I’m not gonna do anything stupid.” 

Neither of them put down their weapons, but they didn’t start a fight either. Steph stepped to the side to allow the teen onto the top of the roof where they’d been standing, just in case this was just some harmless fan. 

That earned her a glare from Tim, which she responded to by sticking out her tongue like any mature person should. Sue her for giving a teen a chance. 

Redhead reached the top, got to their feet and offered their hand to Tim. “Are you Dick Grayson? Batman sometimes mentions you in passing, but I mostly read about you in the news articles we keep archived. You look great for your age, but you’re also a lot shorter and skinnier than I imagined. Well, that’s what you get from looking at blurry photos from over a decade ago, I guess.” 

Steph blinked, then desperately fought the urge to laugh. This teen just came at them faster than a machine gun, all while under the assumption that Tim was somehow Dick. Tim didn’t look as amused as she felt, but he was also good at hiding a lot of things when she wasn’t doing the talking. 

He watched their hand suspiciously, refusing to shake it. “What’s your name?”

“Carrie Kelley, but just call me Carrie. Or, uh, Robin.” She didn’t really look off put by Tim’s lack of a handshake, and instead just offered a smile. 

Steph was already beginning to like her, suspecting she’d like the newcomer even more if she turned out to not be evil. “What makes you think he’s Dick?” 

Carrie turned to face Steph, and she could make out the tiny freckles dotting Carrie’s nose. “Well, he can’t be Jason, he’s dead. And when Batman retired for ten years, it was soon enough after Jason’s death for there to never be a third Robin. Well, until he came out of hiding to take care of the Mutants, and I fixed up his arm and got to ride in a tank to the Batcave even though Alfred said I shouldn’t, and I became Robin. But anyways, this isn’t about me. By process of elimination, it’s Dick Grayson. And you’re his girlfriend, right? Or are you his sister?”

“Girlfriend.” She answered immediately while she started filing away the infodump Carrie had given. Tim looked like he was doing something similar, probably trying to figure out how she fit into all of this. 

Carrie paid him no mind, lighting up at Steph’s response instead. “Oh, that’s mega bunk. What do you call yourself? Canary? Wait, no, there’s an R. Raven? But that wouldn’t really fit the costume colors.”

“I’m just Robin, like you are. It's simple that way.” 

Carrie’s forehead creased. “But...that’s my hero name. And Dick Grayson stopped being Robin a long time ago, so…”

She turned to face Tim. “What’s going on here, really? I woke up in an empty diner about an hour ago, when only a moment before I’d been helping some Batboys take down a new protection bracket cropping up on the East Side. Then, after asking for a pop from the waiter, I watched the two of you on some really fancy high-tech T.V. swing by, followed up by a report claiming you were some crazy fans that were endangering themselves.”

Shit, they were on T.V. already? Tim had just warned against that, but of course neither factored in that racing in the daylight could catch attention, even if they’d been moving fast. Whoops. 

“But I recognized those moves that you used in the video, and I knew that no regular fan could just do them without years of practicing, and they’d never get that good without being trained, but you weren’t wearing the Batboy uniform. So I gave the waiter some money for his time and went looking for you two, since I figured that Dick Grayson would be a start to figuring out why I just...teleported.” 

Tim took a moment to answer, and whether it was for dramatics or because he was still thinking Stephanie couldn’t be sure. “Carrie, I’m not Dick Grayson.”

The redhead’s face fell faster than a block of lead. “But—But Jason’s dead. And Batman never had another Robin besides me, he said so. I would’ve known.”

“And you’re right about half of that, Jason is dead. But from what I’ve gathered based off of what you’ve told us, neither of us are from your reality. In our world, Batman never retired. I was the third Robin, and if our one theory about Girl Robin having fake memories of the future turns out to be true, then I still am.”

Carrie took a step back, shaking her head. “But that’s impossible. Other realities don’t, no, can’t exist. There’s no proof. You’re lying.” 

Steph barked a laugh. “There wasn’t any proof of alien life either, and now we have people like Superman and Martian Manhunter in the news all the time.”

“Exactly. And this is probably another alternate world from our own, unless in your world Batman’s home isn’t Gotham and you’ve never heard of such a city.” Tim sounded less unwelcoming now, which was good. Carrie was looking horrible with this news. 

“No, no, it is.” Carrie sat on the roof, probably too unsteady to trust herself from falling. Steph joined her. “So if I’ve got this right, I’m in an alternate universe with two Robins from another alternate universe where Batman never retired. Oh, and your girlfriend may not actually be a Robin, but just have fake memories of being one.” 

Steph made a face. “Or he’s an amnesiac and forgot the future where his dad found out about his Robin-ing and forced him into an early retirement. But yes, that’s right.”

“This is mental. I mean, just, I don’t…” Carrie trailed off. “I can’t understand why I’d be here. I was with five other Batboys. No one could have gotten the jump on us without me knowing.”

“You keep mentioning Batboys. What do you mean by that?” Steph asked. 

“They’re officially called the Sons and Daughters of Batman, and they’re most of the mutants from Gotham. All of them have a blue bat symbol tattooed over their eyes, and all of them work for me as we take care of Gotham.” Carrie explained. “It was all over the news a year ago, but now people just accept that the Batboys are a part of Gotham now.”

Steph and Tim shared yet another look. Batman having a cult following being led by Robin was a new one, but Carrie didn’t seem to have any ulterior motive. Maybe. 

Tim finally put away his staff. “Carrie, I know this is going to sound harsh, but I can’t trust you right now. We don’t know anything about your world other than what you’ve told us, and that means that knowing someone’s identity and having some similarities that check out with our world’s truth don’t give you credibility. If you want to work with us, it’ll have to be from the ground up.” 

Carrie nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I getcha. But if you’re not kidding, then I don’t really have a choice. My parents might not be my parents here, and even back home they didn’t really give a shit about me. And I doubt the Underground exists here, and even if it did, it would be in Gotham. So if you’ll allow me to stay with you while we figure this out, then I don’t mind the distrust. It’s understandable, and I’ll do whatever it takes until you can trust me.”

Steph wanted to give this kid a hug, but that would be both unprofessional and weird to someone you just met. But for Carrie, no, a Robin to just be so open about everything was so different to what Steph was used to that it took her by surprise.

Instead, she placed a hand on Carrie’s exposed legs, which were ice cold and prickled with goosebumps. “We’re not gonna say no to extra help. How much cash do you have on you right now?”

Carrie opened her utility belt and pulled out a few ones, a five, and a handful of coins. “I wanna say around $11? Maybe $12.”

“So in total, we have roughly $70 or so to spend on clothes and secure a base of operations for the night. I’m not opposed to finding some empty apartment for the time being, especially this short on cash. What do you think?” She directed the question at Tim. 

He finally sat back down, a sign he was willing to cooperate with Carrie for the sake of his plans. “Regarding the circumstances, that’s a great idea. We’ll hit up a thrift shop and find some warm clothes that’ll let us blend in, and maybe find a few blankets we can use for the night when the temperature really dips. The rest of the money we spend on food. For now, we focus on the basics and getting set-up. Tomorrow, we’ll go over how exactly we’re going to do it.” 

Carrie’s eyebrows betrayed her surprise. “$70 is a lot of money just for some clothes and food. You can get a gallon of milk for around $2 and a dozen eggs for a little less than three quarters. And if we’re going thrift shopping, then clothes should be a dime a dozen.” 

Tim and Steph exchanged another glance. Even if Carrie was shopping at the best value store she could find, those prices were absurdly low. 

“Carrie, this may sound out of the blue, but what’s the year?” 

The redhead answered instantly. “1987, why? Is it 1988 for you, and you pulled a mini Back to the Future?”

Holy shit, 1987. Steph’s parents would be her age. People didn’t have the internet. Cellphones didn’t exist. 

And somehow, Batman did. And for over a decade before Carrie’s time. 

“Come on guys, it’s okay to tell me. The alternate reality thing is already pretty weird, what’s a little weirder?”

“It’s 2016.” Steph blurted out before Tim could stop her. “Welcome to the future.” 

“No, it was 2018 for me.” Tim’s frown deepened. 

That couldn’t be right. If he was from the future, then why didn’t he recognize her term as Robin? Unless the memories of Robin were fake, and she’d never been Robin in the first place. Unless she was still Spoiler, and something had been done to mess with her mind. 

Carrie looked like she was taking it really well, especially compared to her reaction to the whole alternate universe thing. She just shook her head, amazed. 

“...So that’s why the T.V. looked so fancy. But which one is it? 16, or 18?”

Tim had his phone out, and swiped down so he could see the menu that usually said the full date. “Neither. Today’s Friday, November 1st, 2019. It’s currently 1:22 pm, if you want to reset your watch.” 

2019\. For Carrie, it was over three decades in the future. And for Steph, it was over three years. And for all of them, it was the future.

-0-

_Location: Gotham Alleyway, off of Wisteria St._  
_Date: Wednesday, October 7th, 1987_  
_Time: 11:43 pm_

“Yo Nick, Carcass, Dave! Get your sorry asses over here and give me the 411.” 

Caroline Keene Kelley—Carrie for short—was currently trying her best to not strangle her underlings for the night. 

It wasn’t really their fault that they didn’t know how things operated, since it was still their first week with the Batboys, and she knew that, but the temptation to knock some heads after witnessing what just happened was very, very strong. 

The trainees climbed up the fire escape to her vantage point on the roof, mumbling sorry’s and excuses that, while appreciated, didn’t quell her exasperation. Carrie crossed her arms across her chest, frowning in disdain. 

“Which one of you wants to tell me exactly what happened?” 

Carcass, a mutant who had joined recently after his sister was saved by another Batboy, grunted. “Boss, don’t be baggin’ on them. It was my fault. I saw that kid tryin’ ta vandalise the wall, an’ I just charged right in.” 

“No, that’s wrong!” Dave, another mutant who had joined the Batboys recently, exclaimed. He didn’t disclose his reasons for joining, but was already fiercely protective of his brethren. “I told Carcass to go after him and tackle the son of a bitch so I could give him a proper beating for disrespecting private property. Carcass didn’t do anything wrong, I did.” 

Nick per usual, was silent, but his tattooed face wore shame on its features. He was the only one Carrie didn’t feel like dragging right back to the Batcave Two, but that didn’t mean he was completely innocent either. 

Instead of acting on her impulses, Carrie just sighed. “Look, I watched the whole shabang go down right in front of me. Lying will get you nowhere, so let’s just admit what really happened: You three got cocky because you’ve been initiated with the Batboys, you wanted to test out what exactly that meant, and your test subject happened to be some poor teenager who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I get it, it’s exciting to do vigilantism for the first time. But you tards need to get your heads on straight before Yindel comes for our asses again. You read me?”

The three of them straightened. “Yes Ma’am.” 

“Good. Now go back to the Cave, tell Marsha that you’re cleaning and repairing equipment for the next two weeks, and go get some rest. Other than tonight, you three have done well on the streets.” 

They saluted, then disappeared off into the night. As soon as she was alone, Carrie allowed herself to sit on the roof. 

She exhaled slowly, letting all of her exhaustion finally register from the day. Arguing with Mom and Dad about college, watching Michelle and Brad make kissy faces at each other during lunch, and training the new initiates left her feeling drained, and she wanted nothing more than to slip into her bed for a good night’s rest. 

But she still had to do homework, and that was only after she finished her patrol as Robin. The Boss trusted her to look over Gotham in his name while he bided his time, and she wouldn’t let him down. 

Still, sitting down to collect her thoughts and recuperate for a few minutes would be okay. Gotham was Gotham, after all. 

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, cool October air filling her lungs and leaving her feeling slightly more awake than before. She let her ears focus on the city’s sounds, her fingers on the soft, leather lining of her gloves, her tongue on the piece of Juicy Fruit gum she’d been chewing for who knows how long. 

She was so, so tired. No 14 year old should feel this tired, this stressed with fighting a losing battle against the world, from the lowest levels of crime to Lex Luthor through his puppet President. But no one else had stepped up to be Robin when Batman needed one, and so Carrie supposed the burden was hers. Certainly not Dick Grayson’s, wherever he was, not Jason Todd’s, a boy long dead whose legacy lasted longer than his career. 

She wondered if they’d be proud of her, of how she was using their legacy. If Dick Grayson ever read the newspapers on her achievements. If Jason Todd was watching over her or Boss from beyond the grave. 

It would be nice if it was true, but—

Her thoughts stopped as the air around her changed, and Carrie’s eyes snapped open instinctively. 

She wasn’t on a roof anymore, or even outside. Instead, she was sitting on the floor in some dark hallway lined with posters of black and white photos taken probably a few decades ago. 

The air was warm and laden with the scent of food, sounds of people talking from the end of the hallway. Black booths with red fabric, neon signs, and low lighting, all signs of some sort of bar, cheap restaurant, or both. 

Tentatively, she stood and walked out, looking around. Some people gave her weird looks, and it only took a second to realize that was because she was in her Robin costume. She glared back, eyebrow raised in a way to give off the air of, “I will fight you and win if you make a big deal out of this.”

It worked, like usual. They went back to their meals and conversations, leaving Carrie alone to her devices. With that settled, Carrie could get to work. First things first, figure out what’s going on. Why she’s here, and why she didn’t remember coming here in the first place. Maybe a villain? 

No, Gotham’s villains usually liked to make everything a big spectacle, to let people know that something dangerous was happening. Not to mention, she’d been purposefully listening for different sounds. But, then what could it be?

  
Carrie took a seat at an empty booth, trying to collect her thoughts. A waiter stopped by to place her order, but she wasn’t hungry, not with how uneasy and disoriented she felt. To look like she wasn’t just loitering though, she ordered a Coca Cola. 

The waiter returned with a fizzing glass filled half with ice, and she thanked him, saying it’d be all for now. 

Now armed with her sugary beverage of choice, she could return to thinking. She didn’t say anything weird that would trigger magic. Her suit wasn’t attached to any device, and she probably wasn’t sleeping, especially because she’d know if she collapsed from exhaustion. The feeling was distinct and very, very hard to forget. 

So then what could it be? Carrie looked around the room, trying to see the bigger picture. The T.V. in the corner was huge, and the pictures it showed were so clear it felt like she was there in person. That was really weird. 

Then all the people around her had these rectangular things that glowed, but she couldn’t see any reason for them. A weird type of flashlight? But they were touching the glowing parts repeatedly, moving their fingers across its surface. Also really weird. 

Not to mention, their clothes were all just...weird. No one looked remotely fashionable, and for her to be saying that, it was big. Carrie usually didn’t give two shits about fashion, but even she could tell everything here was more clueless than her. 

Maybe it was actually a dream? This was too weird to be a reality. 

“—Reports show that Boston was visited by two acrobats dressed as the character Robin from the famous DC comics series, Batman. Live footage shot from civilians show the two acrobats running across the city with what appears to be only gadgets seen in the comics. Many found themselves wondering: is this for a movie, or something else entirely?” 

Carrie’s head shot up at the mention of her hero name, and she watched in fascination as two people, one dark haired and in a more black-tinted costume and one blond in a much more authentic costume, swung through Boston with moves only a real Robin would know. It was impossible not to recognize those moves when she’d been learning them for months herself. 

Boston. She needed to get to Boston, and meet these other two Robins. One was probably the famous Dick Grayson, the first Robin, and the blonde was most likely his friend, because no one else would be ballsy enough to imitate Robin unless they were Robin first. What they were doing in the Robin costume, she didn’t know, but maybe it was their way of calling out to her. To let her know what was going on.

Carrie stood, draining her soda so fast that Stacy would be jealous. She walked over to the owner, slapped down two dollars(way too much just for a soda, but she didn’t care and felt guilty about not buying any food), and ran out the door. 

Boston, how to get to Boston? She supposed that a train would work, but that’d take way too long. Maybe try to get a phone number and call them? Or even just leave a message for Dick Grayson to let him know she was coming. 

“Hey look, it's that Robin actor!” 

She turned around to see a blond teen pointing at her, glowing rectangle in hand. She was going to say that she clearly wasn’t Dick Grayson or his friend, but something else clicked into place. If they thought she was them, and everyone knew that they’d been in Boston, could it be that she was already here? 

Carrie had a growing feeling that was the right answer, and if so, that meant that Dick and his friend were probably waiting for her already. They probably knew she was here, and were just trying to subtly let her know to come and look for them on the rooftops. 

She shot her grapple gun with as much precision as she could muster, grinned as it wrapped around a ledge of a building, and saluted the teen as she flew off. 

This was a call for her, and she wasn’t going to disappoint. 

-0-

So it turned out that it was an accident that they ended up on T.V. That this wasn’t Dick Grayson at all. And that neither of them even knew she existed. Not to mention that they were saying this was not only the future(2019? Could you believe it? She certainly couldn’t), but also an alternate dimension different from both of theirs. 

She’d heard of weird before, but nothing like this. The Batman didn’t do magic and stuff, that was up to the other villains or the Justice League. She was just some punk kid from Gotham who happened to help keep Gotham’s crime rates low via vigilantism. 

The other Robins(She decided to call them Brobin(Boy-Robin) and Grobin(Girl-Robin) for now) didn’t act like this was normal fare for them either, but like it wasn’t completely unordinary either. She wondered what Batman had gotten into by not retiring, and how he’d managed to go without a Robin until other Robin showed up in his life. By her calculations, their Batman would be in his nineties. 

Old geezer never knew when to give up, did he? 

But pushing that aside, it meant these kids weren’t even born yet. They looked a little older than her, maybe 15 or 16, and going off of their respective years, they would’ve probably only lived in the 21st century. 

She was a bona-fide time traveller. A Marty McFly. Would knowing about the future endanger her at all? She couldn’t know for sure, but it was inevitable that she’d learn things, like what future T.V.s looked like or that Coca Cola still existed. 

“—llo? Earth to Carrie?” 

Carrie blinked, readjusting her green-tinted glasses to find Grobin waving her hand in front of Carrie’s face. “What?”

“You alright? You kinda just zoned out on us there.” 

To her left, Carrie could see Brobin touching one of the glowing boxes. After seeing almost every person she’d met in the future have one, the curiosity towards what it could possibly be was overwhelming. “Oh, yeah, it’s just...the future. It’s a lot.” 

Grobin brushed a blond strand of hair behind her ear, nodding. “I bet. But anyways, to fill you in, it’s 2019 according to Tim’s phone. We’re gonna leave as soon as you’re ready to go get some clothes and food, then find an empty apartment to set up camp in for the night.” 

“That’s a phone?” She’d watched Brobin(Tim, Grobin had called him. She’d need to remember that) play with the glowing rectangle before announcing the date and time like he had both a calendar and clock on him, but phones were for talking to people, not measuring time. That was the purpose of a watch. 

Tim sighed, massaging his temples with gloved hands. “This is why no one likes time travel. Yes, this is a mobile phone. No cord, no landline. It uses signals to communicate, sort of like a walkie talkie. We’ll try to get you one and show you how to use it for the sake of blending in and convenience if this lasts more than a week.” 

Weird. It was cool that everyone could have phones wherever they went, but it still didn’t make sense why it told the time. Eh, she’d probably learn when they got her one. “Bangin’. By the way, I’m so ready to leave. I’m freezing to death.” She over exaggerated her words for the affect, and it worked. Both of the Robins looked sympathetically at her bare legs, and she felt a slight jealousy towards their covered ones. 

“Yeah, let’s go then. Tim, mind using a search system to find us the nearest store? Will cut down on time and attention.” Grobin asked. 

Tim shrugged. “Would be a good suggestion if I didn’t already do it. Nearest store is just a few blocks away, and by the looks of it, it has a back entrance we can slip into to avoid further attention. Follow me.” 

Without another word, he fired his grapple gun and swung off towards the east. Grobin smirked and patted Carrie on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. That being said, last one there is a rotten egg!” She fired her gun as well and swung away. 

No way Carrie was gonna look like some spud in front of a bunch of strangers. She fired her gun farther than she normally would, tugged to make sure the line was secure, then jumped, gliding through the air while utilizing her upper body strength to keep from falling. She landed on a roof, fired, and repeated. The colorful dots that were the other Robins became larger and closer as she closed in, but they disappeared into an alley before she could properly catch up.

She’d lost, but they technically cheated by not letting everyone go at the same time. Next time she’d win for sure. Carrie hooked her gun onto the side of the building then repelled down the wall to the ground, where the other Robins were standing. 

“Cheaters.” She teased. 

“Hey, all’s fair in love and war.” Grobin shrugged. “Anyways, makeover time! How’s the lock coming, Tim?”  
  
Tim was on his haunches, picking the lock of a door handle. Only a moment after Grobin asked, there was a satisfied click as Tim pulled open the door. “Piece of cake. We’re in, and it’ll lock behind us as soon as the door closes. No one will know a thing.” He held the door open and Grobin skipped in. Carrie followed, and Tim slipped behind her, as silent as a shadow.

These Robins were weird. Cool, but weird. 

Inside, Carrie felt more at home. The patterns, while not exactly what she was used to seeing, were close enough to feel familiar. She left the Robins’ side to browse, looking for things she knew she liked. A good pair of jeans, a sturdy belt, a couple of shirts she could layer in different ways for different looks. The hardest part was finding a good pair of shoes, but eventually she’d gotten a hold of a pair of Chucks that were in decent shape, her size, and a classic black and white pattern. 

In the fitting room, she tried everything on, satisfied that everything fit. It wasn’t her clothes, but it worked. Only thing she probably couldn’t get here was a pair of glasses with her prescription, so the green would have to be a “fashion choice” for the time being. 

Not wanting to put her Robin suit on again, she walked out in the thrifted clothes, and decided that she could just take off the tags and have them scan them that way. It wasn’t like she was gonna return these and ask for a refund. 

Grobin came out of the changing rooms next, wearing black tights that hugged her legs, some worn black fake-leather boots, and a big, puffy purple jacket with a white shirt underneath. Her domino mask was removed to reveal bright blue eyes that gleamed with playful energy. “What do you think?” She gave a little twirl. 

Though it wasn’t what she’d wear, it looked good on Grobin, and Carrie approved of the look. “Great. I totally forgot about nabbing a coat.” 

“Oh, I’ll show you where I found mine. There was this really pretty blue one that you’d look great in.” Grobin took Carrie's hand and pulled her through the aisles to a rack of big jackets so puffy that Carrie was pretty sure she could hide a cow in it without anyone noticing. 

Grobin took down a jacket that was indeed a pretty shade of blue, but she immediately knew it was too big without even trying it on. Carrie tried it on anyways, just in case, and once again, she was right. Instead, she found a grey jacket that fit better than she’d hoped, and found a pack of gum in its pockets. Score!

“This’ll do. What else do we need to get for the time being?” 

Grobin looked thoughtful. “Maybe find some blankets, or something that would be comfy to sleep with for cheap. We don’t need to worry about cooking right now, we can live off of dry foods like Cheez-its or granola bars. I’m gonna go check in with Tim on how he’s doing, so just stay in the store, okay?”

Carrie nodded. There was no motive for her to ditch them, and they seemed trustworthy enough. Most villains wouldn’t use this much effort to deceive her if they already could have killed her on the roof of the church. 

So she found herself looking for blankets, ones that wouldn’t be scratchy or uncomfortable but also not overpriced. She needed to make sure they had enough money for food and water left over. 

She didn’t have much luck with anything woolen, and the baby blankets were either dubious at best or too thin to make a difference, but she hit the jackpot with the quilts. Tons and tons of them, all folded up with a 2-for-1 deal sign placed on top. She grabbed three, figuring that the Robins could lay one down on the floor and then share another as a cover, and she could wedge herself in the middle of the third, like a hotdog in a bun. A forth would be nice for the sake of a deal, but if she’d been listening right, they’d need to only have the bare essentials as they moved from city to city looking for others like them. 

They’d deal with the others when they had more money and once they proved they even existed. 

Carrie gathered the quilts, bundled her Robin suit within their depths, and carried them over to the changing rooms, where a dark-haired teen in a long-sleeved collared shirt and jeans was talking to Grobin. Instantly, she knew that it was Tim. 

“Found some blankets. They had a 2-for-1 sale of quilts, because apparently every Grandma in Boston donated to this one store.” She hefted her haul. “Anything else?” 

Tim stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Just introductions. Carrie, I’m Tim Drake. Nice to meet you.” 

“And I’m Stephanie Brown, but it’s Steph to all my friends. Including you.” Grobin chimed in. “We figured that our civilian identities would be already compromised, so you knowing our name is better than calling us Robin while we’re dressed like this.”

Steph and Tim. Normal names, nothing weird or overly futuristic that sounded weird. That was a relief. And for the record, Steph was much better than Grobin. 

“Makes sense. We checking out now, or what?”

The older teens shared a look, something Carrie noticed they did often. Steph was the one to reply, “Yeah, I think so. This was a pretty good haul considering our budget.” 

Nice and simple. She liked working with them so far, they were a lot like Batman was it came to pragmatism. But also, friendlier in a way Batman couldn’t be. Probably because they were close to her age, and knew what being Robin was like, while he acted more like her Grandpa. 

They made their way to the checkout, got all their clothes and the quilts rung up, and paid. In the end, they had a little over $40 left.

Buying food was a much simpler matter of grabbing a pack of disposable paper cups for drinking, a few gallons of water in case the apartment they used has the water shut off, canned coffee for Tim, and then whatever non-perishable food looked good(and some fruit, because Carrie wasn’t gonna just live off of chips and cereal for days). 

Carrie was in charge of carrying the Robin costumes(they were inside a plastic bag from the thrift store), Steph was in charge of the food, and Tim was in charge of the drinks. Using something futuristic that Carrie didn’t really understand, they broke into an empty apartment not too far away, set up camp, then finally got about understanding and explaining what was going on now that they had everything necessary for the time being. 

Steph was munching on some pretzels, Tim was doing something with his phone that involved a lot of staring, and Carrie found herself laying out the blanket to be used as a bed for later. No one said a word, so she figured it was up to her to learn more. 

“Hey, so…” She paused, trying to figure out how to word it. “Can you tell me about your world? What’s super-old Batman like? Does he still complain about his back all the time? Oh, and what happened to Dick Grayson?” She didn’t mention Jason Todd, because she had a feeling he was a sore subject no matter what universe you were in. 

Steph’s hand paused halfway from delivering a pretzel to her mouth. “Super-old? What do you mean by that?” 

“Oh, well, I thought it was kinda obvious. If Batman was born in 1920, and you’re from 2016 and 2018, he’d be 96 or 98. So like I said, old.” Carrie took off her shoes and sat on her quilt. 

Tim spluttered as soon as she’d said “1920”, but waited to explain why until after she was finished. “Bruce wasn’t born in 1920 in our universe. He was born in 1982. He turned 36 this year.” 

“Looks like we may be from different dimensions too, Tim. Bruce was born in 1976 last I checked, and he just turned 40 in February.” Steph finally remembered her pretzels and popped the salty snack in her mouth artfully. 

Carrie just sat there, drinking the information in. A Batman born five years ago...She couldn’t imagine it. He’d still have his parents. Somewhere in Tim’s world, in her time, Thomas and Martha Wayne were still alive. 

“I can’t imagine a Batman who isn’t greying and talking about aching joints.” She admitted. “I wonder what changes happened between our realities that managed to have Boss born in a different time, but have the same fate.” 

“Me neither. Old Bruce sounds like a pain in the ass if you ask me. He’s already grumpy as is.” Steph joked. 

Tim rolled his eyes, but he was smiling softly. “Whatever Steph, it's not his fault he gets defensive whenever some new kid shows up on his turf. Besides, you’ve clearly won him over.” 

Carrie reached over for a pack of fruit gummies while the couple bickered playfully, feeling just as much of a third wheel as she did back in school with Michelle and Brad. But she wasn’t gonna be a spud and ruin their moment, because that would be rude. So instead she just ate her way through the gummies, waiting for her next chance to ask about their world. 

Everything was so interesting, could you blame her? The differences didn’t seem believable, yet the way they both spoke sounded so truthful. She wanted to believe them, but it also went against everything she fundamentally knew from her own experiences. 

Eventually, the couple quieted down after Carrie nearly finished her snack, and resumed their peaceful silence. 

“So, aside from a young Boss, care to tell me about Dick Grayson? You obviously know him, based off of how you reacted when I called you by his name when we first met, but I don't. He’s just sometimes mentioned by Uncle Oliver or Boss as a reminder to not go wrong with me.” 

Steph raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never met Mr. All-Smiles Dick Grayson?” 

She shook her head. “There were a few pictures of him in the Manor, but none past his teen years. Apparently he went and became a cop, but that’s as much as I know.” 

Tim whistled. “I can’t imagine Dick completely cutting Bruce out of his life, even if they had that bad fight before...I mean, when Dick was fired from being Robin. He’s a forgiving guy by nature, and as Steph said, generally a peppy guy. He goes by the hero name Nightwing in my world, and he works in Bludhaven. He drops by every now and then as Dick for family dinners or surprise visits, and sometimes works with Batman if the case is really bad. Other than that, he’s mostly focused on Bludhaven or the Titans.” He shot a look at Steph, daring her to say what he said was any different for her, but she didn’t. 

“Never heard of this Nightwing character, so I’m guessing Dick either gave up vigilantism entirely or goes by a different name. I haven’t heard of any heroes in Bludhaven though, so it’s probably the former.” Carrie mused. “But it must be cool, knowing the original Robin. He’s a legend.” 

“Cool’s one word for it.” Steph groaned. “I swear, he’s part Golden Retriever.” 

Tim laughed. “Remember what it was like for us, before we actually met him? He was like what she said, a living legend among children and teens, a first in the world of child proteges.” 

“Yeah, exactly.” Carrie finished her gummies, crumpling up the wrapper and shoving it in her pockets to throw out later. “Who’s Commissioner in your world? Yindel?” 

“Gordon.” They answered simultaneously. 

“I’ve never heard of a ‘Yindel’.” Tim admitted. “What’re they like?”

Well, if Batman was much younger in their universe, it shouldn’t be a shock that Gordon was too. She was glad for them, he was a good Commissioner for all the stuff he went through. Yindel, on the other hand… 

“She’s a complete pain in the ass. Constantly on our case when it comes to vigilantism, even if we save Gotham on the regular. Not to mention that it seems like whenever she’s in a bad mood, she issues an arrest warrant on the Batboys and I.” To say Carrie wasn’t fond would be a massive understatement. “To put it in perspective, the moment Mr. Gordon stepped down, her first act as Commissioner was to put us behind bars. We managed to dissuade her for a little big, but after there was a breakout at Arkham, she was an Ice Bitch all over again.” 

They winced, and she was glad they understood her pain. It was already tough enough fighting bad guys at night only to go to school a few hours later, but fighting the police too was a different beast altogether. 

“Yeah, suddenly I’m even more grateful we have Gordon. He’s honestly the best Commissioner Batman could’ve asked for, and Barbara is a big help as well.” Steph admitted, though the part about someone named Barbara sounded a bit forced, like she didn’t quite agree with the words coming out of her mouth. 

Carrie wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole. She needed to gain their trust to make working together easier, and that meant being friendly was the best way to start. It was humanizing herself, just as the Boss had taught for hostage situations. Except she wasn’t a hostage under a threat, but circumstances. 

Glancing out the window, she could see the sky darkening. Her first night out of Gotham in over two years, and it wasn’t even for a vacation. Ah, well, at least it would be interesting. 

“They’re both great.” Tim said absent-mindedly, eyes trained once again on the glowing part of his phone. “Hey, Steph, we may need to pick civilian aliases. I’ve been reading as much as I can from the internet, and apparently not only does Gotham not exist, it's considered a fictional place from a well-known franchise called ‘DC Comics’. It’s more or less our entire world and experiences but passed off as just creative work.” 

Steph moved closer to him, looking at the glowing screen. “So you’re saying that introducing ourselves by our own names would be like introducing ourselves as Donald Duck?” 

“Not as obvious, but yeah. Looks like Dick is the most well known aside from Bruce and Alfred, but all of us are listed, even people I don’t recognize. Makes sense why we’d make the news if this world considers us to be fictional.” 

Carrie considered this. “Well, even if we’re famous, it's the first-last name combination that would spark recognition. So we probably don’t need to change our first names, since Tim, Stephanie, and Carrie are all fairly common as far as I can tell.” 

“Exactly. Which leads to my next point. If we’re to pull off living a double life and start making enough money to sustain ourselves and resources for returning home while trying to find others, then we’ll need to come up with a suitable excuse for why we don’t have parents and why we’re together. The easiest would be to go with the classic family recovering from a tragedy, but I’d like to hear your opinions on this before we decide anything.” 

Steph returned to her former spot, burying her face in her lap while in thought. Giving Steph time to come up with her stance, Carrie decided to speak. 

“I’m fine with the sibling approach, though I think it would be best to say that at least one of us, probably me, was adopted before whatever tragedy struck. I don’t look much like either of you other than being white, so it would be more believable.” 

Steph lifted her head, yawning with a stretch. “If we need to go with siblings, then sure. I guess that would put dating off the table, because that’s just gross even if in name only, but it's better than coming up with a weird reason why a pair of orphaned siblings are traveling with the older one’s girlfriend, who is also orphaned.” 

“That just sounds complicated by listening to it.” Tim sighed. “But I agree. Steph and I could pose for blood siblings, especially since our skin tones and eye color match, and Carrie would be an adopted younger sister. As for legal custody, it's the same here where one of us has to be 18, which means I’m going to have to forge someone’s birthday. And since I’m constantly called a baby-face by everyone, Steph, mind pretending to be our resident legal adult?”

Now that he said it, Carrie realized she didn’t even know how old either of them were. Steph looked about 17 or so, but if she was told Steph was older, like 18 or 19, Carrie wouldn’t be surprised. Tim looked 15 at oldest, but could easily be her age or even younger. 

Steph grinned in a way that was way too gleeful for someone who would have legal custody over two kids. “I don’t mind at all. I’m already 16 and a half, what’s an extra year or so? People can’t object if I have a legal ID, which I’m sure you can secure.” 

Tim looked like he was going to reply, but stopped before a single sound could escape. “Wait, Steph, what’s your real birthday?” 

“You should know this, jeez. August 11th.” She punched his arm, pretending to be offended. 

He shoved her away. “I did know that. I’m asking for the year. As we already figured out, birth years have shifted between our universes.” 

“Oh.” Steph’s eyes lit up with recognition as it became clear she understood what he was getting at. “2000. Which would make me 19 in this world.” 

“Exactly. We don’t have to make a fake birthday at all for you, and it’ll be hard for anyone to catch you in a lie since there wouldn’t be one to begin with. If we go with that, I’m 17, but I don’t think anyone would fall for that. So I’ll just move my birth year forward a year and be 16 legally. Carrie, since birth year kinda doesn’t apply for you, how old are you currently?” 

Oh, right, if she were to say she was born in 1973, she’d be in her forties. Definitely not something she could pull off. “I’m 14. Was born May 28th.” 

“So your new birth year is 2005. Think you can memorize that?” Tim watched her carefully. 

May 28th, 2005. It felt so odd, saying “two thousand” as a year, but it was going to be what she dealt with for the time being. May 28th, 2005. Just pretend it's a code, not a birthday. Memorize it like that.

“Yeah, I think so. But how are you going to fake birth certificates and adoption papers? Social Security cards? Driver’s licenses?” As far as she could tell, those would still be used for identification. And it couldn’t just be faked, the government could identify cheaply-made counterfeits in their sleep and they didn’t have the access to resources for high quality ones.

But Tim didn’t look worried at all when she brought it up. “I’ll need to secure a computer, but from then on I’ll be good. I’m considering assembling my own from different parts, since the cheaper ones on the market won’t be able to do what I want. Which is actually a great segway to my next point, making money.”

Steph rolled up the pretzel bag, using a bobby pin to keep it shut. “So that’s why you’re making yourself 16, so you can legally work.” 

“Yes, but that’s later on. For now, until I can get the legal identification we need for applying for jobs, we’ll have to do things that pay in actual cash, and are under the table or undocumented. That means babysitting, fixing broken things, tutoring, et cetera. It won’t be the most secure way of getting an income, but if we find some repeat clientele, it can keep us going for the time being. And I can do some basic hacking on my phone to try and set us up with a credit card with a decent limit that can sustain us if needed, but it’ll be a lot harder than if I were to use a computer.” 

Carrie understood the basics of what he said. Just try to make money in any way she can that wouldn’t involve an actual paycheck. Easy-peasy. She was pretty good at doing things with her hands, and while she wasn’t the best with older kids, little kids were a piece of cake. 

“Sounds legit. What’re we gonna choose for our last name?” She didn’t feel really partial to Kelley. Alliteration was boring anyways. “I don’t think we should do anything like Wayne, that’ll just make our connection more obvious.” 

Steph grabbed her quilt and laid it out, mimicking Carrie’s set up. “Oh, definitely. Brown’s really common, so maybe that? Tim Brown, Steph Brown, Carrie Brown?” 

“No, Stephanie Brown is still too close, even if they’re both common.” Tim’s brow furrowed in thought as he set his phone aside. “I’ll average the first letters of our last names, find a list of last names starting with that letter, and we look through until we find one we like. It's best if it's semi-random, allows for less connections to be drawn.” 

“Average? How can you average a letter?” Carrie asked. 

“Assign each letter a number, such as A being one, B being two, and go on. Then add the three values, and divide by three. Round to the nearest number.” Tim explained it as if he were listing primary colors. “Brown is two, Drake is four, Kelley is eleven. Leaving us with seventeen, which when divided by three rounds to six. Making our last name start with F.” 

Steph repressed a snort. “Nerd. Only you would use math to decide on a fake last name.” 

“Yeah, but again, randomness. Now, if I bring up a list of last names starting with F, we get…”

They spent at least an hour arguing over last names, from “Frey” to “Farell”, but eventually decided on “Finch”, reasoning that they were all Robins, and going by a bird-related last name was not only somewhat of an inside joke, but easily memorizable. 

And no Robin could resist the opportunity for a good joke.

For an indeterminate time, Carrie Kelley as she knew herself no longer existed. She was now Caroline Keene Finch, born May 28th 2005. Her birth parents, Gregory and Elaine Kelley, had given her up for adoption as an infant, and she was shortly adopted by the Finch Family, becoming the younger sister of Stephanie and Timothy Finch. 

It was almost perfect, all they needed was a name for their “deceased parents”, and a tragedy that they lost them to. Their hometown would be Trenton, New Jersey, a big enough city for them to get away with not actually knowing anyone living there while also explaining any Jersey-accented words they were sure to say at some point. 

“This is where we’re going to run into problems.” Tim sighed, leaning against the blank apartment wall. “Making up a tragedy where three kids were orphaned definitely will be looked into, so it needs to be realistic. Thankfully, Jersey seems just as crime-ridden as I remember it, so we can blame their deaths on something close to what a truth we all have experienced.”

“...You’re not thinking of us adopting Bruce’s backstory, are you?” Steph asked. 

“Only parts of it. The reason it's so well known in Gotham is because Thomas and Martha Wayne were the most significant financially and socially out of Gotham’s five founding families, and yet they died in one of the most Gotham-y ways possible. If we applied this to a world that thinks of it as no less than a comic’s story, then it makes it very easy for the death of two random adults to be discreet. Sometimes the cops don’t find the bodies for a week, and by then they’re barely identifiable, or sometimes they don’t find them at all.” 

It was gruesome, but once again, it made sense. They were all familiar with the Boss’s backstory and could recite it by heart if they had to. Just change a few facts, and bam, backstory. The most believable lies were always based in truth, after all. 

“So, if I understand this right, we want our unnamed fake parents to have been returning home from seeing a movie at the theater, they were confronted by a mugger, and shot to death. We found out a few days later after the bodies were found and identified, and Steph was granted custody over the two of us.” Carrie summarized. “Or, are we going with them not being found, and after filing a missing person report, Steph was given custody when it was clear that they weren’t coming back?” 

“Definitely the first. If it's clear they’re dead, no authority will have any wiggle room to try to send us to non-existent relatives. Besides, death certificates aren’t hard for me to log in the computer. If they can’t find a hard copy, it’s a clerical error and they’ll replace it with a new one.” 

Again, more stuff she’d probably understand better when she properly acclimated to the future. But it seemed that people relied a lot more on computers now than she ever did, and Carrie couldn’t help but wonder why. If Tim could easily put fraudulent data on record through computers, why even use them? Paper would be a lot harder to fake. 

Stephanie must’ve noticed something, because next thing Carrie knew, she had an arm around her neck. “Hey, I know this is probably really frustrating to hear us talk about things when you don’t understand how it's done, but trust me, Tim’s a whole other level of geek when it comes to this stuff. He confuses me with his nerd talk, and I’m from the future.”

It did make her feel a little better, but still. She couldn’t help but feel dumb for not recognizing the glowing rectangle to be a phone, even if it looked nothing like one and Tim had not used it to speak to other people once. And that was the real problem, really. Not knowing enough about the future to feel like she could pass as someone from this time. 

Tim looked somewhat ashamed to have not explained things, but she didn’t want his pity. “It’s okay. Once we get the basics situated, I can start learning how to be a kid from the future. What names are we giving dear ol’ Mom and Pops?”

“Same system we used for our last names? Average the first letter then search for whatever sounds right?” Tim proposed.

“Sure.” Steph shrugged, sliding into her quilt bed with a yawn. “Crystal is three, Janet is ten, and uh—”

She looked at Carrie. “—Are we counting your mom and dad?” 

“I don’t see why not? Her name is Elaine. My dad’s Greg.” Carrie offered. It wasn’t like adding more numbers would do anything bad. 

“Okay, so Elaine would be five, and added together we have the number 18, which is 6 when averaged. F, again.” 

Tim made a face as if he’d caught whiff of week-old garbage. “Okay, no, we’re not using the same system again, bad idea. Alliteration catches attention. Reverse order would give a similar outcome, so how about I just have Google choose a random number for us?”

“Why not?” Steph said just before Carrie asked, “Who’s Google?” 

“Google’s the name of a search engine. Basically, think of it as the name of the librarian that you ask for information on where to find things, but it's a computer.” Tim informed Carrie. “Anyways, I got 16, so I guess our mom is going to have a name starting with P. And our dad should have the name Bruce, just in case we slip up. But, just stick to Mom and Dad if you can.” 

Bruce as her dad? She’d find it easier to see him as a grandpa or great uncle, but Tim was smart in folding him into their alias. He did take her in and teach her a lot of things, even if it’d only been a few months. As for their fake mom, “For mom names, I’m thinking Paula or Peggy. They sound mom-ish.” 

“I like Paula.” Tim said noncommittally. Steph showed her agreement with a “Same.” 

And like that, it was decided. Bruce and Paula Finch, deceased parents of Steph, Tim, and Carrie. They talked a little more, deciding Paula’s maiden name(Brown, because Steph had been relentless and Tim eventually admitted it would be easy to remember), their parent’s death date(They chose the date it’d been when Carrie reality jumped, October 7th, placing them as orphans for just about three weeks), and other boring stuff that they’d have to know like the back of their hand if they stayed for longer than a week or two. But eventually, the conversation dwindled, and Carrie was left with the soft sounds of Stephanie’s snores and the tapping of Tim’s fingers on the phone screen. 

She didn’t like that this was necessary. That they needed to wrap themselves in lies in order to survive long enough to find the truth. But Carrie also knew it was necessary, unless she wanted to spend years in foster homes in this strange future until she was 18. It was a necessary evil, like putting the weight of Batman on Bruce’s shoulders. 

She wondered how time was passing back home. If it’d paused as soon as she’d left, and when she came back, she’d be the only thing that’d changed at all. Or if it was 2019 there as well, and she’d mysteriously gone missing from the Batcave one October night. It made her heart ache, thinking about how she may have left Alfred wondering if it was he who was responsible for her disappearance. Thinking about how Bruce would react to another Robin missing, and this one without even a body left behind. 

She didn’t know how Jason died, but now she didn’t want to. It suddenly felt as private as it’d always been treated, something cursed to bring sorrow and grief upon whoever dared mention his fate. 

Carrie hoped her legacy wouldn’t be the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've decided that I'll be updating on Saturday from now on, so hopefully we should have a consistent schedule until I either run out of prewritten content or am unable to post due to internet issues!
> 
> This chapter was a blast to write, and now we have all the Robins introduced! A lovely commenter asked for a reference sheet for who came from when, so here you go:
> 
> Present day: Starting at Friday, November 1st, 2019  
> Damian: Born February 19th, 2006, from Thursday, April 4th 2019 (13)  
> Steph: Born August 11th 2000, from Saturday, December 17th 2016 (16)  
> Tim: Born July 19th 2002, from Saturday, August 4th 2018 (15)(Young Justice Tim)  
> Carrie: Born May 28th, 1973, from Wednesday, October 7th, 1987 (14)  
> Jason: Born August 16th, 1996, from Monday, March 8th, 2010 (14)  
> Dick: Born December 1st, 1996, from Sunday, October 24th, 2010 (Young Justice Dick)(13)
> 
> (Figuring out a timeline for these kids is a mess, so I'm so sorry if this contradicts with anything in canon(but I will die on the hill that it would've been impossible for Tim to see Dick's final performance)(Yes I will write my own explanation at some point))
> 
> Aside from that, thank you all so much for reading! Writing this fic has done wonders for my mental health, as I had no motivation to write for months and then this idea hit me over the side of the head. Like I said before, this is a rough draft, but I do hope that I'm able to fully complete this work as I plan it one day. 
> 
> Until then, however, this'll have to do! If you wanna chat, I can be found via email at those2peeps@gmail.com, on Discord at Fluff#0929, or on Tumblr [here! ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/msperfectsheep-posts)
> 
> See you all next week, 
> 
> Msperfectsheep


	4. Putting distance between some, and getting closer with others

_Location: Best Western Inn, Boston, New Jersey_   
_Date: Saturday, November 2nd, 2010_   
_Time: Early morning, maybe_

The first thing he noticed when he woke was that he was not in a familiar place. The bed was painfully uncomfortable compared to his one at the Manor, not to mention the person asleep next to him. 

Dick took a moment to collect his thoughts, and thankfully his panic was quelled. He wasn’t in an unknown place against his will for some scheme or plot, he was in a hotel room with two people who were apparently his future successors in the title of Robin. And the boy beside him was the fifth, named Damian…

He didn’t want to think about Damian’s last name. Call him juvenile, but that sort of thing wasn’t his business. 

Slowly, Dick eased himself out of the bed, wondering if the clock on the bedside table’s “4:53” was in A.M. or P.M. Based on the lack of sunlight coming through from the cracks in the curtains, he was inclined to believe it was the latter, but you never could be sure in this kind of life where giant plants could take over Paris. 

Sitting on the couch was the second Robin, a guy calling himself Jason Todd. Dick still had mixed feelings about him being his direct successor, but if he ignored that little tidbit, Jason was a pretty nice guy from what Dick could tell. A little rough around the edges, but nice. 

And he was going to be nice back, because there was literally no reason not to. He gave Jason a little wave as he made his way over to the couch, then sat in the empty spot to Jason’s left. Quietly, as to not disturb Damian, he whispered, “Morning. How long have you been up?”

Jason whispered back, “About two hours. Tried to go back to sleep but it didn’t work.” 

“Was the couch that uncomfortable? If you’re still tired, you can have my spot on the—”

Jason shook his head, cutting Dick off with a soft hiss reminiscent of a leaking bike tire. 

“—No, the couch was fine. Slept in a lot worse places than this. It’s just…” Jason’s gaze focused on the curtain-covered window, “My mind’s too active right now. I keep thinking about how in the world I ended up here, and who could be responsible for something this insane.” 

Oh. 

That was a reasonable excuse, one that had tortured Dick in the past with a barrage of unanswered questions for a whole slew of situations. 

“Got anything that’s worth mentioning?” He tried to say it like it was a joke, but with the added need for it to be in a whisper, Dick wasn’t sure if the effect was noticeable. 

Thankfully, Jason cracked a smile, and that question was answered. “Naw. But I’m thinking that once things start to open up for the morning, things will unravel as we make our way over to where Gotham should be. Maybe we’ll find Bruce and he’ll just have the answers to everything. We battle whatever goon’s behind this crap, go back home, and then celebrate with some of Alfred’s cookies.” 

“You mean ‘biscuits’, Master Jason.” 

Dick reused his Alfred impression, and Jason rewarded him with a soft punch to the arm. “Smartass.” 

“Wouldn’t be with the Mathletes if I wasn’t.” Dick teased back. “But yeah, visiting Gotham should answer some things. Though I’ll admit that I’m spoiled, nine hours on a bus to Gotham sounds like hell when a Zeta could get us there in seconds.” 

“The fuck’s a ‘Zeta’? Don’t you just usually add the prefix ‘Bat-” and be done with it?” Jason stood, stretching. Dick could hear Jason’s bones pop, but that wasn’t at all the reason behind his sudden feeling of dread. 

“You’re joking, right? You know, Zeta Tubes? The big mechanical portal thingies all across the globe? How we access the Watchtower?” He started to raise his voice to a normal speaking volume, but lowered it accordingly once he got the most surface-level emotions under control. Even if this was a reason for concern, he should let people sleep, especially if they live using Bruce’s unhealthy sleep schedule.

Still...Jason’s eyes showed no recognition as Dick spoke, not at words that should be more than familiar. The dread’s weight settled on Dick, and he prepared himself for the worst. 

Jason looked equally uncomfortable as he answered, “I’m not joking. Nothing you just said are things that I know. Unless you mean the Watchtower is another name for your Titans Base in New York.” 

“My what? No, the Watchtower is the big floating headquarters for the Justice League? The one in space? The upgraded HQ from Mt. Justice?” Dick was grasping at straws at this point. 

Jason just shook his head. “If you’re telling me Bats has a secret Space Batcave, I’m gonna throttle him for not telling me about it.” 

He really didn’t know. And while Dick was very tempted to ask what Jason had meant by “your Titans Base”, at least Dick had a reason for not knowing his future. Jason not knowing such a big part of the past was alarming. 

Dick stood and grabbed the pad of paper and pen positioned on the bedside table left behind by the cleaning staff, then started to write out the basics(with drawings to accompany them, of course). 

“So down here is Mt. Justice, the former base for the Justice League. Do you know the Justice League?” 

Jason sat down next to him, looking over the drawing of Mt. Justice. “Yeah, of course I do. I’ve never met anyone other than Superman, but I’ve heard of em. Whenever they need Batman, I’m benched and it sucks.” 

“That’s weird. Anyways, at Mt. Justice is where I work whenever Batman wants to go solo or nothing really interesting is happening in Gotham. I use tech called “Zeta Tubes” to get there, since it's a bit of a drive from Gotham to Rhode Island. More or less, the technology recognizes your DNA and then teleports you to where you wanna go, so long as there’s a Zeta Tube there.” 

While Jason considered the new information, Dick doodled a Zeta Tube adding little lightning bolts to indicate it was fully electrical and not magic.

“So what do you do at Mt. Justice?”

Dick raised an eyebrow, not expecting that particular question. Still, he didn’t see any reason not to tell Jason. He must be brand new as a Robin if he didn’t know any of this stuff. 

“Well, I help out The Team with whatever the league wants us to do, or if they give us nothing to do, we find some case that interests us and look into it. Basically, the usual, but it's the whole world instead of Gotham, and all your teammates actually talk rather than just brood in the darkness.” 

Jason looked appreciative. “Sounds...different, to say the least. Who’s on the Team? Oh, and awful name by the way.” 

“Thank you, I try. Anyways, the current team is Aqualad, Artemis, Superboy, Miss Martian, Artemis, Kid Flash, and me, Robin. Artemis and Superboy are newer than the rest, but not by much.” He forgot about whispering, but Damian wasn’t moving, so he was probably in the clear. 

He decided to draw stick figures of the Team on Mt. Justice, because why not? It wasn’t complete without them. “Oh, and then there’s our Den Mother, who rotates out. It’s usually Red Tornado, but recently we’ve been having Captain Marvel look after us. Black Canary’s usually there too, but she’s less there to stop things from happening and more to deal with the aftermath of our consequences alongside us.” 

“Mm.” Jason yawned. “So you’re still under supervision. That sucks, because the lineup you just gave sounds pretty fucking solid. But whatever, it wouldn’t be Batman approved if he didn’t have some way of knowing about everything that’s going on. What’s the Watchtower thing you mentioned earlier? The Space-Batcave?”

It appeared as if Jason too forgot about whispering, or just no longer cared. Either way, if they were to be blamed for Damian waking, they would be blamed together. “Yeah, so, it's basically this giant space complex the Leaguers set up to monitor for any extra-terrestrial activity before it impacted Earth. It’s also now where all official business is conducted, because it’s basically the safest place there is. Not to mention the first time you see Earth from space is mind-blowingly awesome.” 

“Oh, so that’s why I’ve never been. I’m not associated with the League yet like you are.” Jason sounded oddly okay with that revelation, but maybe he just didn’t care the same way Dick did. From what the acrobat had seen, Jason wasn’t the type to hide his feelings unless it would give his enemies satisfaction.

Dick still decided to give a little bit of comfort, wrapping his arm around Jason’s shoulders to pat him on the back. “Do you wanna join?” 

Jason’s muscles tensed under Dick’s touch, but he didn’t draw away. “Shit yes, I do. It sounds sick. But you’re what, 12?”

“13, but my birthday’s in just about a month or so.” He didn’t mind Jason underestimating his age because literally everyone did it. By this point, it was a running gag with Barbara to see how low the guess could get. 

“Yeah, so you’ve been doing Robin shit for years now. Me? I’m barely even close. I’ll be lucky to even join another team before I decide to drop the name “Robin” entirely and make my own adult vigilante persona.” 

A perfect segway into a question that had been nagging at Dick ever since they’d met. “When did you become Robin, actually? How did it happen? If you don’t mind telling, that is.” He added the last bit as an afterthought as he realized that Jason could have been brought into this life by tragedy the same way he had. 

“I don’t really mind, it’s not like you wouldn’t find out later on your own. So basically, for basic context, about two years ago, the older you and Bruce were in the middle of a huge fight because you got shot during patrol and Bruce suddenly decided to become protective and fired you from being Robin, wasn’t pretty. You broke off things with the Titans, some more superhero friends of yours in the future, and left Bruce alone in Gotham. Not a great time for anyone, but Batman managed.” 

Dick barely managed to process the massive info-dump Jason just piled onto him. At some point, he was fired for being shot? That was absurdly ridiculous, especially with Bruce having him do things like that mental training exercise monthly. He decided older him was totally in the right to be pissed at Bruce, and dreaded the day when he would have to have such a fight. 

“Anyways, one day, Batman’s out on patrol like he usually is, and for whatever reason, he thought parking the Batmobile in Crime Alley was a good idea. So while he’s punching bad guys, I decided to try to jack his tires. I was near starving, my mom recently OD’ed and left me with nothing, and my no-good excuse for a dad was in prison. I knew it was reckless and risky, but starvation drives you to do anything for survival.” 

Wow, okay, that wasn’t what he was expecting at all. Rather than a sudden tragedy that changed his life like Dick, Jason’s story seemed like a spiral of increasingly worse conditions as time went on. Still, trying to imagine some kid stealing the Batmobile’s tires was hilarious. “You were caught?” 

“Only after I took off three of the tires. I was in the middle of the forth when Batman appeared and caught me red-handed, tire iron in my hand. I tried to scram and save my sorry ass from whatever beating I was sure Batman would give me, but instead he cornered me, took me out for food, and then drove me to the Manor through the Batcave. At first, he tried passing it off as just a temporary pity thing, but eventually ‘the guest room’ became ‘Jason’s room’, Alfred was making me my favorites for breakfast, and I was taken out for clothes shopping.” 

Dick imagined it wasn’t as simple as Jason told it, but then again, stories never are. Instead, he felt happy that Bruce had found it within himself to help another kid in need even when he was in a fight with Dick’s older self. Maybe he was hurting for a reason to be overprotective, or maybe it was something else entirely. When it came to Bruce, Dick could never be sure. 

“Few weeks pass, I fully adapt to Manor life, and start demanding to help Batman as Robin. He shut me down time and time again, but I eventually managed to convince him to train me to be a sidekick. You were still trying to figure out who you wanted to be in life, so I never really got to see you until I was already Robin. But yeah, he eventually deemed me as ready, and I started going out on the streets. To this day, I believe stealing those tires was the best goddamn decision I’ve ever made.” 

The ending was sweet and all, but one key phrase kept sticking out in Dick’s mind. 

“I never really got to see you until I was already Robin.”

The wording couldn’t be clearer. Jason wasn’t given the mantle of Robin by Dick as a sign of respect or admiration from his older self, but was stolen away while he was “fired” for being injured in the field. However, that wasn’t Jason’s fault. He clearly didn’t mean anything wrong by using Dick’s mother’s nickname for him, he just saw it as a hero name for Batman’s sidekick. 

No, this was all Bruce’s fault, again. He knew what “Robin” meant to Dick, and yet he still let Jason use his colors and name without his older self’s permission.

Dick was really not looking forward to this period in his life. It sounded like Bruce was being more or an emotionally-constipated ass than usual, and that he was at the receiving end of the brunt of it. 

Jason, however, was probably caught right in the crossfire. Realizing his arm was still around Jason’s neck, Dick withdrew it, offering an apologetic smile. “Sounds like it. I wonder what R3 and R4’s stories are, and Damian’s sounds...interesting.” 

“We need to ask him for a better name for them than R3 and R4, especially when we’re in civvies. It makes us sound like old car models, not people.” 

“Agreed.” Dick sighed, slipping the whole notepad into the totebag leaning against the foot of the couch. Even imprints were trackable, and he couldn’t risk it. Besides, paper could always come in handy. “So, what happened to me, in the two years between then and now?” 

“Uh, you became a police officer to piss Bruce off, moved to Bludhaven as your center of operations, and took up the new name of Nightwing. The suits’s pretty tight, but I’ve seen your rejected designs and...yikes. In one, you literally look ready to go to a disco, no joke.” 

A police officer? That wasn’t like anything he’d been thinking of whenever a future career was brought up, but then again, he didn’t really consider his civilian life outside of the fun things. “Bludhaven? What was I thinking, that place is more unsalvageable than Gotham at times.”

“Beats me, but it seems like Nightwing’s doing a pretty good job of keeping criminals on their toes.” Suddenly, Jason was scrutinizing Dick again. “...Puberty hits you hard, dude.” 

“Thanks?” 

“Don’t mention it.” Jason was standing again, incapable of picking a position to keep. “Can we just wake him up and get ready to go? He’s already gotten enough beauty rest to last for three days.” 

Him being Damian, who was still snoozing away peacefully. Dick spared a glance at the clock, which read 5:46. “Yeah, we probably should. We can nab some breakfast at a convenience store before hitting the road, how does that sound?”

“So long as I get to choose what I’m eating from there, no complaints.” Jason walked up to the bed and placed his hand on Damian’s shoulder before shaking him. “Yo, Damian, time to wake up. Curse has been lifted by yours truly, Sleeping Beauty.” 

Damian’s face instantly contorted in a scowl as he shoved Jason away from him with his full body weight, ending up standing upright next to the bed. “The only curse I’ve been inflicted with is your presence. Go bother Drake, check if he’s—”

He cut himself off. “—Nevermind. Just join Grayson in his morning stretches to allow me some proper peace and quiet.” 

Drake. That was a new, unfamiliar name, unless he was referring to waterfowl. Sadly, Damian clearly wasn’t going to elaborate, so Dick supposed he’d have to wait to find out until later. The fifth Robin stalked off to the bathroom, pointedly slamming the door with a click of the lock only seconds later.

“That’s a good idea, stretches should help prep us for the bus ride today. Do you know my usual regiment?” 

Jason groaned, glaring at the door as if it was responsible for everything that's ever been done against him. “Do I ever. Batman made it mandatory for me to memorize before allowing me to be Robin. We still try to do it before patrol every night, though sometimes Batman spices things up by using a different warm up.”

“Good, then you should be able to keep up. The space isn’t as big as I’d like it, but It’ll work.” Dick was glad that at least Bruce had kept some of Dick’s charm to Robin when he handed it down. And having a partner his age would open up so many more possibilities. 

Jason nodded, looking like he actually understood Dick’s frustrations, and instantly started mirroring Dick after making his way to Dick’s side. Not a single muscle would go unstretched if he had any say in it, and Jason’s ability to keep up only made things smoother. 

In the background, Damian eventually left the bathroom and started stretching with his own routine, one that looked to be equally effective yet not nearly as fun as Dick’s personal regiment. Whether that was the Batman standard of his time or he was just doing it to piss Dick off, he didn’t know, but if it was the latter it wasn’t working. Dick was impressed how Damian had rearranged parts of his routine to make something completely different. 

Jason and Dick finished a bit before Damian, so it was up to them to gather their belongings for when they departed, but that was laughably easy. Their only belongings at the moment, the two tote bags of Robin suits and hotel notepads, were gathered neatly on the coffee table in front of the couch already. So instead, Dick and Jason just made the bed while Damian finished so they had something to do to pass time. 

Damian finished unceremoniously, the only indication he was done being that he moved away from the spot he’d been stretching in to grab a tote. Jason nabbed the other before Dick could, wagging a finger with a grin. “Nuh-uh, no way am I allowing you to look at how much cooler my suit is than yours.” 

“What are you talking about? I saw the full thing yesterday when you were wearing it.” Dick used an argumentative tone, but he was grinning too. Ever since Jason had told him about his origin story and Dick’s future, things felt lighter between them. Like Dick could understand Jason, and Jason could understand that Dick wasn’t the same person he’d be in the future. “And it looks like my old suit, by the way. Only the belt’s different.” 

“Yeah, what the fuck is up with all the black on your suit? That’s not right.” 

Damian opened the hotel room door and left wordlessly, but it wasn’t like he was trying to hide he was leaving. Dick had no idea what Damian was going to do, but as long as it didn’t hurt anyone or get them arrested, he didn’t care. 

“What do you mean, it's not right? I need to be a little more subtle when I’m doing stuff with the Team, since we usually work with things more complicated than street thugs and drug dealers.” Dick justified. 

He remembered the whole process he’d undergone to change his suit for more solo-oriented missions. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a part of himself to get rid of Robin’s brightness, but it was necessary. And hey, Jason was back in the original costume, so it wasn’t completely dead. 

Jason snorted. Honest to God, snorted. “‘Robin’ and ‘subtle’ do not belong in any sentence together unless there’s a ‘not’ in between.” 

“Usually, you’d be right, but it’s also not like I’d go and change my name just for when I’m working with a different crew. That’d be way too much mork for what it’s worth.” Dick stole a glance at the clock. 

6:17, perfect. By the time they hit the streets, it would be well into the morning, and hopefully that meant that their journey would go smoothly. Well, assuming Dick and Jason ever got around to leaving the room in the first place. 

“You do in the future.” Jason sang, a grin still on his face. “By whatever, guess you’re sorta right.”

“And you’re sorta right too. Now, let’s leave before Damian falls back asleep waiting for us. He’s clearly not a morning person.” 

“Clearly.” Jason grabbed the door and exited the room, and Dick followed. They’d have to leave through the lobby without checking out, but that was okay. The keys to the room were inside for the cleaning staff to find, and no one would question three kids just walking around a bit, especially if they waited around in the lobby for a bit like they were waiting. 

So that’s what they did. Two minutes to convince the staff at the desk that they were just bored(If they even cared), and then they all left through the front exit without ever looking back. 

“While waiting for you to finish your idiotic conversation from earlier, I took the liberties of searching for the bus stop we need to wait at for our route. There wasn’t a direct line to anywhere in the Gotham area, but there was one to New York City, which we can take to Philadelphia. We’ll exit there for a break to eat and use the facilities, then from then on it’ll be a game of figuring out which line would be most efficient to take based on time.” Daian informed them. 

“So basically, without the filler, you know where we should go.” Jason summarized. “When’s the bus scheduled to come by that stop?”

“At 6:30 am, in approximately 12 minutes. We shouldn’t dawdle, as the stop is six blocks from our current location.” 

“If we want breakfast, we’re going to have to move quickly. I’m sure there’ll be a convenience store along the way, so I’ll dip in and buy some water and a few random snacks to keep us going until New York. You two keep going and if the bus is there and I’m not, stall.” Dick made up a plan as Damian started walking, and he was glad to not hear any objection from either. 

“Grab something that isn’t going to make us more thirsty, so no chips or pretzels.” Jason advised. 

“And none of those putrid “Slim Jims”.” Damian added, looking absolutely disgusted at the thought. “Do you still have enough money from yesterday?” 

Dick checked his pockets to make sure, but the familiar feel of paper bills in his pocket was hard to miss. “Yeah, I do. Should be more than plenty.” 

“Good, because there is a corner store after this intersection. Be as efficient as possible, Grayson.” 

Dick spotted the store Damian was referring to, and nodded as the crosswalk flashed for them to cross. Jason and Damian kept soldiering on, eventually getting lost in the crowd of Bostoners, and Dick dipped into the store. He grabbed six plastic water bottles, a few different types of granola bars, and some of those cute little personal cereal cups because it was breakfast time. He dumped his loot on the counter, paid for everything, and shoved his loot in a plastic bag from the store. 

The whole affair took him three minutes, which wasn’t bad, but he was on a time limit and waiting for crosswalks could greatly increase how much he was behind the others. But luck was on his side, because he was only stopped once the whole time. 

By the time he got to the bus stop, Damian and Jason were the only two who hadn’t yet boarded, but the bus was still there and the doors were still open, so he considered it a win. 

Jason must’ve seen Dick coming, because he started boarding to keep the bus driver from assuming they were waiting for another ride. 

“You made it in time. Well done, Grayson.” Damian commented, without looking over his shoulder as he paid the bus fee. 

Dick mirrored him. “Of course I did. Had any doubt?”

“Many.” Damian walked to the end of the bus, where Jason was sitting in the last aisle by the window on the left. “In case of an emergency, we’re by the exit. It also allows us to view the entirety of this vehicle’s passengers.” 

Dick decided to take the spot next to Jason. Not like he disliked Damian, he was fine and all, but he also wasn’t very fun. At least Jason would indulge in Dick’s jokes and offer his own in return. 

Damian’s frown only confirmed this. The kid was way too serious about everything, like Kaldur but with expectations for Jason and Dick that they just couldn’t possibly reach. 

Still, maybe he was just taking the whole situation poorly and he’d be much more amiable in a few days. Dick supposed being diplomatic could only make things better. “That’s some good thinking. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.” Damian’s frown softened, and Dick felt a rush of satisfaction that his verbal peace offering worked. “Now, may I see what you acquired from the store?” 

Dick handed over the plastic bag of food and water, and Damian picked his way through it before handing it off to Dick. He handed it to Jason before taking anything, because that was the polite thing to do(also, Damian didn’t take any of the cereal, so even if Jason wanted some Dick would have lots left over). 

The cereal was just as good as always, though Dick did wish he had some milk. He just washed everything down with a few sips of water and called it a day when everything was said and done, because they’d probably be able to eat something much more filling in New York. 

He couldn’t talk about anything really weird that could compromise their identities, so Dick decided to go with a topic that any child his age could get away with talking about. And while he really had no interest in the subject, he was sure Jason could steer it to something much more interesting. 

“What’s your favorite subject at school? You go to G.A., right?” He would normally say “Gotham Academy” like a normal person, but Gotham wasn’t supposed to exist. 

Jason understood without missing a beat. “Yeah, I do, but everyone there is just a rich, pretentious asshole. English is pretty cool though, and the reading lists they give out have good choices. Well, some. The version of “The Stranger” by Alfred Camus that they chose is one of the shittiest translations I’ve ever seen, and completely ruins the writing. And when we talked about Mary Shelley in class, they didn’t go over how weird her life was, which was really disappointing.” 

Okay. Not what he expected. At all. Jason, the future Robin, a kid who grew up on the streets and was introduced into Batman’s life by stealing the Batmobile’s tires, was a literature nerd. 

“I don’t really know who she is, so I guess I can’t say I know how weird her life was either.” Dick admitted, hoping that would give him something else to work with. 

“Dude.” 

The disappointment in Jason’s voice was evident enough. “She’s the one who wrote Frankenstein. The book that has affected pop culture and western society for over a century?”

“Really? That’s cool.” He didn’t really pay attention in English, it wasn’t important to be Robin. Besides, if he made a mistake, Alfred would correct him on it. 

“It is. Ms. Chan’s teaching style isn’t the worst, but she doesn’t really allow us to talk about the books in depth before subjecting us to boring worksheets with questions that would work better when discussed in length in a group. It’s like she’s one step away from getting how to do this right every single time.” 

“Oh, you have Chan? I have Jackson, and he just makes us read quietly in class. On Fridays we have to read something we wrote over the week from a prompt, and I think that’s the only time we ever talk in that class.” 

And he now had a read on Jason’s age. He was a freshman, meaning he was probably 14, maybe 15. Dick knew Jason could possibly be 13, like himself, but it was a rare case for kids to skip grades and with Jason living on the streets only a few years ago, he’d probably needed to catch up for whatever he missed or wasn’t taught in a subpar school. 

Wait, why didn’t he just ask? Hello, Megan! “Hey, you’re a freshman, right?” 

“Yeah. I know Ms. Chan teaches some of the older kids, but that’s in AP Lang and I’m more of an AP Lit kind of person if you couldn’t tell.” 

Dick snickered. “Don’t worry, I can. But actually, I wanted to ask how old you are. For a timeline of everything.” 

“Oh, thought I told you. I’m 14. How about yourself?” Jason answered easily. 

“I’m 13. I’d ask Damian how old he is as well, but he looks pretty focused on whatever he’s reading on his future phone.” Dick jabbed a thumb in Damian’s direction, where he was silently doing exactly what Dick described. 

“I’d guess he’s 12, but maybe 13. I dunno, but he’s close to our age. Doesn’t look like he’d be older than me.” 

“I am 13.” Damian said without taking his eyes away from the phone. “I was born in February of 2006. Does that satiate your curiosity, Grayson?” 

Shit, Damian was four in Dick’s time? “How come you’re not living with Bruce back...where I’m from?” 

“My mother and Grandfather decided I wasn’t worthy until I could best Mother in combat. Once I had, I was allowed to meet Father. He did not know I existed until then.” Damian elaborated, still not looking at Dick. 

Still, if his mother was Talia al Ghul, it’d make sense that they’d try to make Damian an assassin before Bruce could get to him. Probably wanted him to betray Bruce from the inside, or bring them intel. Dick couldn’t really guess, since the League of Shadows was more than secretive. 

But now that Dick knew Damian existed, maybe he could get Bruce to rescue his kid earlier. It would be cool, being a big brother. Maybe he could see a Damian who didn’t have a metaphorical stick up his ass. 

Dick just didn’t know what to say to Damian. Sorry you got a shitty half of a family? Glad you were able to beat your mom in combat so you could meet your dad? Nothing felt right. 

“Thanks for letting me know. Hey Jason, other than reading, what do you do for fun?” 

It was a weak way of changing subjects, but it got the job done. “Uh, Alfred’s been teaching me how to cook recently? That’s always fun. And those 3D logic puzzles are great, but only until you figure out the secret to beating it. How about you?”

“Well, obviously, acrobatics.” Dick started. 

“Obviously. I don’t think you’ll ever give that up.” 

“I like hanging out with Wally a lot, he’s a cool guy who always managed to find something fun to do. Oh, and Barbara’s a good friend too, but she’s better for things where you sit down and think, like Monopoly. I like exploring the Manor, because even though I’ve been there for years, I always manage to find something new when I look hard enough.” 

Jason perked up at the last bit. “Have you been to the attic? I swear, there could be a skeleton in one of those boxes and no one would know.”

“Once, I found a cannon. With cannon balls. I wanted to try shooting it because that would be awesome, but Alfred said no.” 

Jason gaped. “And you listened? Dude, I’m sorry Alfred, but there’s no way I’m not trying that when I get back.” 

And things just went on like this for the majority of the ride. Dick asked Jason a question, and then Jason would return the favor. Of course, Jason already knew some of the things Dick said, but that didn’t really affect anything. Jason was as forthcoming as he could be in such a public location, and he never missed the chance to make some joke that was objectively funny, no matter what Damian said. 

Sometimes, Damian tore his eyes away from his phone to add his own perspective or opinion, but it was seldom. He didn’t really talk to them, and Dick had a growing suspicion Damian didn’t like Dick and Jason’s older selves very much. Why else would he not talk about things when he was clearly bored out of his mind? 

Dick just didn’t understand Damian. 

-0-

_Location: A broken-into apartment in Boston, New Jersey_   
_Date: Saturday, November 2nd, 2010_   
_Time: Too damn early_

Tim, unsurprisingly, didn’t sleep. 

He tried, but not very hard. What was the point? He wasn’t tired, he was in an unprotected, unknown building with a girl he’d met only a few hours before and a version of one of his friends who clearly had a different set of memories from him, and there was so much he needed to research in order for his plan to work. 

Of course, the internet was the best resource he could ask for at the moment, and he was lucky enough to have a habit of carrying his phone and a charger with him in case of emergencies. Of course, normally, he’d have trackers and panic buttons on his suit that he’d use first, but Batman’s vigilance prepared for everything. Especially with his somewhat-recent addition to the Team, a covert ops unit for the Justice League, who were somewhat notorious for getting into strange and unpredictable predicaments. 

This counted as one of them. Though he was confused as to why Steph, and even weirder, Carrie, had also gotten involved. He’d need to ask the both of them if they were part of the Team in their version of reality, but if they weren’t, then this brought up the question of why them? Why Robin, specifically? 

Was Dick here as well, even if he didn’t go by Robin anymore? It was possible, but according to Steph, Tim was forced to go cold turkey on vigilantism after his dad found out. Robin was his last name. It could be Steph’s last name too. Carrie could easily have gone by Robin for her whole vigilante career in her universe. 

In short, thinking about the logic behind the attack was a headache-inducing mess. Tim opted to temporarily drop it for the sake of his sanity, and moved onto researching everything about this world he could. 

Comparing events, geography, celebrities, everything. Looking up companies like Wayne Enterprises to see if they even existed(There was a clothing company based in Houston with the same name, but nothing close to what Tim knew). Reading about...himself. 

His and everyone else’s histories, recorded on a website for anyone to see. It was extremely discomfiting, and how they treated his life like basic fiction left him feeling somewhat numb. 

He didn’t stay on those sites for long. Maybe Tim would return to them one day if a situation called for it, but as long as avoidance was an option, he would utilize it. 

However, every other website he encountered with information that seemed useful was fully investigated, and by the time the sun’s rays slid over the empty apartment’s floor, Tim felt pretty confident in knowing the basics of this world. 

Mostly, things didn’t change much. Yes, there were three more years of history and technological advancements, but nothing unsurprising or unexpected. The cities like Metropolis and Star City just went under different names, or they just never existed in the first place. 

The most glaring, challenging issue was that this world had no vigilantes. The law system seemed to be enough for this world, and there was no proof aliens even existed, let alone an invasion. And because of that, footage taken of him and Steph “dressed up” as Robin and swinging through the city in pure daylight was trending on several social media sites. 

A stupid mistake they couldn’t reverse, but knowing the internet, it would hopefully be forgotten if he, Steph, and Carrie laid low. It could even be beneficial to finding any others who were stranded, if they did the same research. 

But, to keep himself and the girls out of the public eye, he needed to focus on setting up a sustainable life for them. A way for the three of them to function while they figured out how to get home, worst case scenario being they build a dimension-travelling device themselves. 

How long it would take, Tim had no idea. But he would never give up, especially not when this didn’t just affect him. He had a living father back home, Steph had her mom, and Carrie had both of her parents. Batman needed a Robin, and if Bruce thought that he’d lost another child back home, Tim wasn’t sure he’d be okay. Sure, there wasn’t a body like there’d been with Jason, but Bruce knew how cruel Gotham could be. 

Tim really, really hoped he could find a much faster way back than relying on himself. He couldn’t let everything he fought to bring Bruce back to be lost. And he couldn’t let his unknown opponent win, not without a fight. 

-0-

Steph was the first of the two to wake. 

She was cute when she came to, blonde hair a mess and blue eyes unfocused from sleep, but not in the romantic context she’d been pushing the day before. As much as Tim liked her, and even with their past, he just didn’t feel in the mood for any romance. Not after Cassie. 

“Sleep well?” He passed her one of the cans of coffee they’d purchased yesterday, and she accepted it. Tim grabbed another for himself, cracking the seal open and downing the contents.

Not even close to the coffee at home, but better than plain water. Steph sipped hers more slowly, waking up. 

“Best I could. I really hoped it was just a weird dream.” 

He shook his head with an exhale. “The universe isn’t that kind. You should know that by now.” 

Steph frowned, making an unhappy noise as she set her can down. “Fuck the universe.” 

“Fuck the universe.” 

His repeat of her sentiment made her look a little happier, which was good. A downtrodden Steph was a danger to everyone who crossed her path. 

She sat up fully, still on the quilt, and yawned. “Have a plan for today?” 

He was glad she didn’t ask if he slept. She obviously knew he hadn’t, and knew not to bother him about it because it would never go anywhere. When he eventually crashed, he trusted her to make sure he was safe.

“Yeah. It’s basically what we discussed yesterday with the library, but while I’m hacking several government databases to make it seem like we’re from here, you and Carrie are in charge of making fliers for whatever job she wants to do to earn money, and assembling your resume.” Tim stretched, wincing as his joints popped in four different places. “I’ll help if you need it, but those activities alone should keep us occupied until lunch. Oh, and I’ll finish typing up a dossier with our basic alias info for you and Carrie to memorize.”

She rubbed her eyes and suppressed another yawn. “I guess we’ll be using what’s left from our budget to print these fliers?” 

“Some of it, but you should try to keep it to under $10. Nothing overkill.” He answered, wincing at the crick in his neck. He hadn’t noticed it was so bad until he moved. 

She scoffed. “Like you aren’t gonna set us up with credit cards the second you have the opportunity to. But okay, I agree that keeping some hard cash on us is a good idea. Anything else we need to know before introducing ourselves properly to the world?”

Tim stood, stretching fully to find any other unwelcome cramps or pains from sitting against the wall staring at his phone for a full night. “You’re in charge of educating Carrie on everything modern so she doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. But, things that are common knowledge like the current president take precedence over memes.” 

“It’s not like any of the memes I know would be relevant anyways.” She snorts. “Knowing the pace the internet moves at, 2016’s memes are basically archaic by now. But worry not, young pangolin, I will adapt.” 

“Padawan. For the last time, it’s padawan.” He groaned. He didn’t miss Steph’s purposefully incorrect quotes at all, no matter how endearing she insisted they were. 

She smirked, finished off her coffee, and jumped to her feet. “Yeah, yeah, whatever Nerd Wonder. What’s for breakfast?”

Breakfast and their daily training regimen went smoothly, for the most part. Apparently, Bruce changed up a few of their moves between Robins, but it was easy enough to integrate them seamlessly. 

Someway through their 5th kata, Carrie woke up, but the ginger didn’t fully come to until nearly fifteen minutes later, when she’d made her way through an orange and drank an entire Solo Cup of water. 

“...So it wasn’t a dream.” She didn’t sound surprised, and it wasn’t a question. Just phrased like a fact, such as “Humans need oxygen” or “Gotham is dirty.”

“Nope.” Steph shifted her weight onto her left leg and twisted her torso, following through with the kata. Tim mirrored her, silent. “You’re stuck with us, ‘87.” 

A new nickname already. Steph was either in another playful mood or she was already attached. Knowing his friend, either was equally possible. 

Carrie didn’t seem to mind, relaxing as Steph filled their newly-acquired partner on Tim’s agenda for the day while finishing the kata. 

Tim let their voices drift into the background as he focused on laying out more of his long-term solution, and only allowed himself to return to full awareness when he finished the kata. By then, Carrie was standing, and the sun was fully visible from their one window facing the city. 

He grabbed their thrift-store bag, the one with three Robin costumes inside, and tied it shut. Then he grabbed another plastic bag, this time from the supermarket, and threw in a few snacks.

“We’ll take food so we don’t spend extra money on lunch, and there’s no way I’m risking leaving our suits unprotected, even if this universe doesn’t have public vigilantes. The League could still very easily exist, the Reach, who knows. Point is, being able to keep our suits in our line of sight at all times is a good idea.” 

Steph snatched the food bag from him. “It’s not like I’m gonna argue with that, because that would be stupid, but what plan do you have if the bag rips and the costumes spill out?”

“Easy, we say we borrowed some costumes from a friend for a Halloween party, they were stained at the party, and so we had to wash them before returning it later today. It works especially well, considering Halloween was only two days ago here.” 

Carrie snapped her fingers. “Also explains why it’s in a disposable bag. We wouldn’t want to get the suits dirty, since we just cleaned them, but we also don’t care enough to wrap it in anything. That’s pretty fil.”

“Fil?” Tim couldn’t help but ask. Carrie’s tendency to throw slang into her language would definitely be noticeable. 

She looked surprised that he had to ask at all. “Yeah, fil. Means...I guess you could say innovative? But that’s really long and wordy, yanno?”

“I didn’t, actually. But the point I’m trying to make is that a lot of the slang you use naturally isn’t commonplace here.” 

“Not like that’s anything to be ashamed of!” Steph chimed in. “You obviously didn’t know.” 

Tim nodded along. “That’s correct. But it’s something we’ll have to watch out for, especially if our cover is that you’ve been living with Steph and I for a long time as our sibling. Think you can manage to squeeze in slang research?” He directed the question at Steph, locking eyes. 

She didn’t even blink. “Definitely. You may be a workaholic in his own class, but lemme tell you, I’m no slouch when it’s something I care about. Learning all of Carrie’s weird slang sounds fun.” 

“I can handle speaking like a boring person, just so you’re aware.” Carrie said dryly, but her eyes danced with humor. “My Nana was a stickler for proper grammar. Will it be fun? No. But I’m sure I can pick up on modern slang to fill the gaps.” 

“Perfect! Then there’s nothing to worry about. Tim, is there anything else that needs to be said before we go or is this it?” Steph was getting antsy, he could tell. 

Tim sighed, grabbing another canned coffee and cracking the seal. He could already feel the last one's effects weakening. “No, we’re good. Let’s go.” 

Unceremoniously, they filed out of the apartment, Tim locked it with the standard Robin lock pick set, and the three teens made their way across Boston to the nearest library according to Google. It just opened, and almost no one other than a few staff members were inside. 

Perfect. 

He scouted out a good, secluded area with two monitors, grabbed a chair for Carrie, and let them settle down. Now, usually libraries required one to have a library card to log in to their computers, but Tim knew his way around such a basic security measure. 

He logged himself and Steph in for an indefinite amount of time, set down the remainder of his coffee, and got to work. 

The tragic story of the Finch family was only a few hours away from becoming reality.

-0-

  
Five hours. 

It took him five, uninterrupted hours to get all the basics together. Of course, he’d been working on a few of the problems at a time, but what mattered was that when he was done, Stephanie, Timothy, and Caroline Finch were US Citizens, orphaned, and in the legal custody of the eldest of the survivors. Steph had a credit card now, a report on two unidentified bodies found in Jersey that were later named as Paula and Bruce Finch was buried within New Jersey’s online files for if it would ever be needed, and Steph has a diploma from an online highschool. 

At some point in the early creation process the day before, Tim had entertained the idea of their last name being Draper and going with his familiar alternate ego. But alas, if they already knew about his personal life as Tim Drake, it was more than possible Alvin Draper was also known. 

So that dream died, and he was okay with that. No harm in letting things go. 

Tim was in the middle of creating his own school record when Steph tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, wanna take a lunch break?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “A few librarians have been giving us looks recently, and while I don’t really care, if you’re going for incognito we should probably go to a different library.” 

He looked at the clock, and realized that, yeah, a usual log in would have given him only 2-3 hours before it logged him out. “Sure. Let me just save my work.” 

He closed all the tabs that were no longer necessary, and saved everything else to a flash drive for later. He was satisfied with how much he’d gotten done with the resources available, and after lunch, Tim would be able to complete the basics. 

“What kind of lunch are you two up for? I know I said that chips would be fine, but we can spend a bit now that Steph has a credit card.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “When does it arrive?”

“Tomorrow. I found a bank that would overnight it, and I waived the extra fee. I think that one hot meal today would be nice, and we can go back to chips for dinner. Deal?”

He didn’t particularly care about what he ate so long as people stopped bothering him about eating, but Steph got moody if there were better options available and he didn’t at least offer them. 

“Deal. I’m craving anything as long as it’s not Sushi. Last time I got food poisoning, and it was not pleasant.” Steph proclaimed. “Carrie?”

Carrie looked thoughtful. “I’m in the mood for some sort of sandwich, though I don’t care whether it’s hot or cold. If that helps narrow things down.”

“Does Subway sound good?” Tim had only been to the chain a few times as a civilian, and it was never open when he was in costume, but he had no complaints and he remembered it being relatively cheap.

Steph looked pleased with the suggestion. “As long as I get a cookie, I’m down.”

“Sounds cool.” 

Tim looked up locations on his phone, found one in between this library and the next closest to their current residence, and memorized the path they’d need to take to get there. “Alright then, let’s go.” 

He grabbed the Robin costume bag, which was thankfully still intact, and led them out into the streets. 

Subway was busy, but the line was moving quickly so Tim didn’t mind. He ordered the smallest version of their daily sandwich and an iced coffee from their fridge, Steph got a sandwich with basically every topping on it(and her cookie), and Carrie ordered a meatball sub. 

Tim paid the balance, gave a tip, and ate his sandwich in peace in one of the booths as Steph and Carrie explained what they’d accomplished. 

“Basically, we decided that by offering cheap rates as babysitters, we’d be able to secure more customers who are willing to risk lack of experience for a smaller bill. Hopefully it will also get us more gigs, and that'll cover the losses.” Steph started. 

“I’m taking the babies and toddlers, and you’re handling the older kids. Once you finish our legal papers, Steph’s decided to look into this one gig as a server at a retirement community. Apparently they’re willing to pay over minimum wage.” Carrie continued as Steph took a bite. 

Steph swallowed, picking back up. “And there’s been no scandals with the company that we could find. Looks pretty good for what I had to work with.” 

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Why distinguish what kind of kid you and I look after? I’m not complaining, just curious.”

“Oh, because I have a lot of experience from babysitting infants and toddlers thanks to my neighbor, the Merkles, and you don’t seem like you’d have a clue when it comes to that stuff, sorry. So we figured you having to look after kids who can understand words and how to use the toilet would be best.” 

Carrie didn’t say it with any sort of malintent, but it still stung a bit, to be told he didn’t know how to take care of kids. Reminded him too much of his own parents, which wasn’t the greatest thing to be compared to in regards to raising children. 

He kept his expression passive. “I see. Did you manage to learn anything about now?” There was probably a better way to phrase it, but that was all that came to mind without making anything sound weird to any eavesdropper. 

“I did. Man, to hear that Reagan was supposed to be president instead is a mind-bender.” Nevermind, subtlety was completely lost if anyone was listening. “Also the internet is really weird.”

“Tim, a lot changed because the JLA doesn’t exist. There was a terrorist strike in 2001 that...Clark could’ve stopped easily, but because he isn’t here, several thousand people died from the impact or sustained injuries. There was a conflict in the middle east that could’ve been smoothed over easily, but wasn’t. It’s like we were learning everything for the first time together.” 

He finished his sandwich, and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “But there were similarities?” 

“Yes and no. Brexit is still a thing, PewDiePie is still a thing, and America was still the first on the moon, but the weirdest things just...don’t exist. Like Bialya physically doesn’t exist. It’s split up between a bunch of other countries, so not even the borders are there.” 

Tim pinched his nose. “For now, let’s assume that most locations we know don’t exist. Don’t refer to them unless we have proof that they are real, which’ll most likely be from Google Maps. Other than locations and vigilantes, is there anything else that I should know about?” 

Steph shrugged. “We’re still trending on Twitter? A lot of people thought it was a stunt for a new movie to get promo and hype, but it's all just speculation.” 

“Oh, and apparently a lot of movie adaptations of the Boss’s life have been made.” Carrie chimed in. “Movies, comics, a few T.V. shows, you name it. And all of them are ever so slightly wrong. Like in one series, you’re Robin, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Right.”

“But according to Steph, that Tim has a completely different backstory. He’s got a life similar to Jason’s, but your dad was involved with Two-Face? It’s weird like that.” She hummed, taking another bite of her sandwich. 

He couldn’t imagine that in the slightest. However, knowing the multiverse existed from Batman’s files, there very well could be a Tim Drake living that exact life right now. 

Tim hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with another version of himself during this. That was bound to cause headaches. But if it did happen, he’d be sure to have a plan in place to deal with it.

For now, however, they were alone and therefore didn’t have to care. He moved onto more pressing matters, detailing exactly what he got done at the library in their time there, and what he needed to finish today before the library closed. 

Once all the legal paperwork was completed, and himself and Steph had stable jobs, he would focus his extra time into finding other vigilantes. 

“Of course, the newspaper would be the obvious choice to lay clues, but nobody reads the newspaper modern day. However, social media accounts are too obvious or missable.” 

They were done with their sandwiches by this point, and were chatting as they walked to the other library. Tim took it as his chance to think aloud and get feedback from the others. 

“Well, maybe not.” Steph replied, “With the Robin stuff being trending, we could set up an account talking about what we were doing, and drop subtle clues that we’re the real deal in the dialogue, like an email address that they can contact us at.” 

Carrie pressed the button at the crosswalk, silent as she listened. She once again probably didn’t understand what they were talking about fully, but was trying to decode it on her own. Tim wasn’t going to stop her unless she asked for help. 

“Our first hint that this is the real deal has to be upfront, like a phrase or code that vigilantes would recognize multiversally. That’s the trickiest part, and then we also have to face the fact that very few vigilantes, especially metas, have been trained in identifying secret codes, much less decoding them.” He didn’t dislike her idea, but it wasn’t good enough yet either. 

Steph didn’t look the least bit bothered, but he hadn’t expected her to in the first place. “Then I guess that’s what Carrie and I will work on while you finish up on all that paperwork. It’ll be a good way to spend time and also teach her about how exactly the internet functions on a surface level. Sounds good?”

It sounded reasonable enough, and if it was successful, would be a massive help. “Sounds good.” 

And that’s what happened. A repeat of the same process from before, more hours on the computer setting up illegal documentation to look legal, and the careful crafting of the start of Tim’s long term plan. No one bothered them this time, as the staff seemed uncaring of the particular corner they set themselves up in. 

He finished crafting a full paper trail before the library closed, spending the rest of his time picking out books for later research, from a basic recounting of modern history to a deep analysis of space to the most up-to-date book on science he could locate. The internet would be useful for most of these, but in the case where his phone died or something else happened, he wanted a back-up. 

Also having a library card under his new name would just further cement his current identity. 

He filled out three application forms, one for each other them, and put their address as their current, illegally-obtained apartment. It wasn’t like the library would actually ever need the address, but it was required to put down. The rest went by smoothly, and by the time the library closed, he had an armful of books, the first legally-obtained card referring to him under his current alias, and a satisfying amount of work done. 

It was a good day, all in all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, it's me again! 
> 
> I don't have much to say aside from the fact I only have two more chapters pre-written after this one, and because of the fact my life is currently pretty hectic, I may not be on schedule two weeks from now. If so, I'm so sorry, but do know its real life keeping me away, not uninspiration. 
> 
> Also, thank all you you who have left comments, bookmarked/subscribed, or left a kudos. Your appreciation fuels me, truly. 
> 
> If you wanna chat about this, Batman in general, or anything, really, I can be found via email at those2peeps@gmail.com, on Discord at Fluff#0929, or on Tumblr [here! ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/msperfectsheep-posts)
> 
> Until next week, 
> 
> Msperfectsheep


	5. Tim knows the internet scarily well and Damian pisses Jason off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to NotAUsername for suggesting the use of Bug Bounties as a source of revenue for Tim!

_Location: A bus enroute to New York City, New York_  
_Date: Saturday, November 2nd, 2010_  
_Time: 12:10 pm_

Damian was reminded once again how much he loathed public transportation. The bus’s seats were unbearably lacking in padding, hard and pressed against his back as a pale imitation of the luxury seats of the Bentley back home. The air smelt of sweat and other body odors, and the temperature was akin to that of a walk-in refrigerator. 

The only upside was the fact that none of the passengers had attempted futile conversation with him. Aside from Grayson and Todd, who were rambling about random topics to pass the time and attempt to know each other better, the only other person in the back seat was himself. 

At first, he’d busied himself with researching what exactly was different a few months in the future. What had happened to Gotham, to make it fictitious. Was it magic? 

He remembered a file on an incident in Laos where an inexperienced magic user had managed to accidentally convince the townspeople that an apocalypse had happened, and that their village was the only remaining safe haven. Even after the magic had been undone, the townsfolk didn’t truly believe it’d all been faked until going through years of therapy. 

Perhaps it was the same here, but in reverse. The world believed Gotham was unreal, that it was just some made-up place from a comic book, but in reality it did exist and everyone was unaware. For any other city, he would’ve been less likely to favor such an absurd assumption, but Gothamites seemed to stay in Gotham, and the rest of the world seemed to stay away. They were self-sustaining, if you will. 

However, until they actually arrived, that theory was nothing more than a speculation. So instead, he busied himself with reading about the supposed creators of Gotham in this world. DC Comics, formerly called “Detective Comics” was responsible for creating comic books and their heroes ever since the 1930s, with their first hero being a man named Doctor Occult. 

The name was vaguely familiar to Damian, but because it didn’t spark immediate recognition, this so-called Doctor obviously wasn’t important. He continued reading, finding another name that was completely foreign to him, Rose Spiritus, but that wasn’t what made him nearly drop his phone. 

This article named Superman as DC Comics’ third hero, which was a hefty claim in itself, but what was really concerning was the “(Clark Kent)” right next to his name. 

He instantly clicked on the article and began to read. 

To his growing horror, this article was nearly as detailed as the Batcave’s own files, but in an entirely different way. It listed Superman’s past, his family, his career like it was all one story, going so far as to cite the comics where each event happened. It was blatant about his secret identity, his obsession with Lane, even his weakness to Kryptonite.

His horror only grew as he found similar articles for all of Father’s coworkers from the Justice League, Grayson’s former teammates from the Titans, Todd’s Outlaws, Drake’s Young Justice, and Father himself. 

All their secrets, all their secrets laid out on the internet for the whole world to see. Even he had his own page, and it revealed the basics of his upbringing, of his family, of his suffering as clinically as a book report. 

The information itself, aside from the fact they were presenting everything as fictitious, was nothing new. The Batcave already had all of this filed away, and as a standard in the process to become Robin, he’d read the top 500 most important files of both heroes and villains in his first week of training. 

It was the fact that it was so public that made Damian uncomfortable. That anyone in this future could see their secrets spilled so openly and use it to their advantage. It put him on the defense, and he loathed being in that position. 

And yet, he wasn’t going to reveal more than the basics to Todd and Grayson. They were too emotionally volatile in this state, and it would be foolhardy to expose them to something that would possibly make them operate less efficiently than normal. 

So instead, he switched to a news site and started reading articles on the most recent events, starting with the month he’d last been in, April. 

Occasionally, after he was finished with an article, he’d glance at Grayson and Todd to make sure they were alive and well, but the former Robins didn’t do anything but talk with each other and play hand games. From Grayson’s body language alone, the tapping of his foot, the drumming of his fingers on his knee, the way he kept changing what he focused on visually, it was clear he wanted to move around. And with Damian’s knowledge of how active his mentor was as a child, he was desperately fighting the urge to do some sort of handstand or contortion for the sake of not causing a scene. 

Todd’s younger self he didn’t know nearly as well. His older self was familiar, just as familiar as Drake or Pennyworth. But the younger Todd was referenced with a quiet respect whenever he was brought up; a dead child who never really came back intact. There were fragments he’d heard over the years, like how he’d called father a “big boob” when he’d attempted to remove the Batmobile’s tires or how he’d had his smoking habit from before, but nothing as cohesive as Grayson. 

Still, Damian could read body language, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Cain. And Todd’s body language indicated that he was tired, apprehensive, and bored. 

Two bored Robins and several more hours until a chance to stretch was bound to end in some sort of disaster, and it was Damian’s duty to prevent that to the best of his ability. 

“Would you like to hear of the future?” He wouldn’t tell them anything major, nothing involving Todd’s death or Father’s disappearance into the timestream, but he could talk of modern technology, pop culture, the new pets he’d managed to convince Father to let him keep. 

The question had an instantaneous effect. Both of them were looking at him as if he were made of pure gold. 

Dick struck first. “What am I like?” 

Of course, a simple question. It was to be expected from a child who lacked the wisdom and experience that his Grayson had. 

“Me too. I wanna know what I’m like.” Jason added on, apparently content with saving his next question for later. 

However, by asking, this was a much less simple question. He couldn’t exactly say why Todd was violently angry because that would ultimately end up with an explanation about his untimely death. So he now needed to word this carefully. 

“Grayson, you are confident. A natural leader. You surround yourself with allies and manage to befriend all of them, forging bonds stronger than steel. You are caring for your family, and supportive in times of emotional need, even if we deny it at first. You do whatever you believe is right, and always act with the greater good in mind.” He started. It was a good start. Nothing revealing, yet enough to keep them focused. “Todd, you are dedicated. You never stray far from your goal, and always manage to complete it to some extent. You are strong, but don’t rely on brute strength alone. You are also caring, especially of those less advantaged, proven by you taking over Crime Alley as your patrol area. You are an excellent cook as well, only second to Pennyworth. I like your stuffed cabbage rolls in particular.”

They were captivated by every word, he could tell. Something warm bubbled inside him, giving a rush of pride. Grayson was completely and utterly captivated, and Todd wasn’t far behind. 

“Jason said I went by Nightwing in his future. Is that still true? And what’s his name in the future?”

He couldn’t say Red Hood. Todd would instantly connect it to Joker, and ask why. So for now, Damian would have to lie. And if he came across Drake, Brown, or any of the other nuisances in his life, he’d tell them to stick to his lie. 

“It is, and his new name is Blue Jay.”

Grayson looked satisfied, and gave way for Todd to ask his own question. Damian expected it to be about “Blue Jay”, a name he’d made up on the spot to fit with the bird scheme of Robin and Nightwing while also using a pun, as he was sure Todd would appreciate it. He expected for Todd to push at things aggressively, to force the truth out one way or another. 

Instead, he didn’t ask about “Blue Jay” at all. “What’re R3 and R4 called now that they’re not Robin? It feels weird talkin’ about them like they’re just some forgettable code.”

Of course they’d want to know about Drake. Even in a past where Drake wasn’t even in their lives, he was the focus. Damian shoved down his anger, knowing it would only draw out more questions about his predecessor, and answered, “R3 now goes by Red Robin, and R4 goes by the name of Batgirl.”

“Holy shit, R4 is a girl?” Todd swore. “You never told us she was a girl!” 

“You never asked.” Damian answered. He didn’t understand what was so important about Brown’s gender to draw that sort of reaction out from Todd. She’d only been Robin for two weeks anyways. Meanwhile, Grayson looked thoughtful, and Damian realized his mistake only a moment too late. 

“Why isn’t Barbara Batgirl anymore?” 

He could salvage this. “She retired from Batgirl as she matured, like yourself and Todd. She took up the name Oracle, and runs online support and video feeds for every battle in Gotham. She makes communication a lot easier.” 

Grayson’s face lit up, and Damian knew he was in the clear. “That’s great! I thought the future was all sad and stuff because there've been five Robins in a decade, but apparently we all just grew up. That’s cool.” 

Todd playfully elbowed Grayson. “More than a decade, dumbass. You became Robin in 1998. That’s two decades, do the math.” 

“No, I didn’t. If you do the math, I would’ve been a barely-two year old Robin. As much as I’m for child endangerment as the next sidekick, that’s taking things a bit too far.” Grayson elbowed Todd back.

“Grayson,” Damian didn’t like that he needed to ask this, but it was necessary with the last comment. “What is your full birthday?”

“December—”

Wrong.

“—first—”

Wrong again.

“—1996.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Todd looked just as concerned and disconcerted as Damian felt, his currently-blue eyes locking with Damian’s. Everything about Grayson’s last statement was completely wrong. Yet he had said it as easily as he breathed. 

Todd’s eyes flashed with concern, and Damian let him take control of the explanation, or at least the justification for why everything Grayson had said was wrong. 

“Dude, your birthday has been, for as long as I’ve known you, March 30th, 1990. You told me once that was where the whole “Robin” thing came from; because you were born on the first day of spring.” 

That was what Damian had wanted Grayson to say, what he wanted to hear. Better Todd’s mouth than none, he supposed, but still. 

Grayson looked unsure of what to do with that information. “...So you’re saying I…” 

His eyes widened. “Jason, what year was it for you before the Comic Con?”

“2010. You’re almost 19, but now knowing everything you’ve told me, lemme guess: You’re also from 2010, and either our future is forward by six years in everything but the date or you’re behind 6 years, correct?” 

“...I was gonna say that it could be that the Jason in my world is my age, and that I was just born extra early on your Earth, but basically.” 

Damian allowed the very corners of his lips to curl with amusement. Still Grayson, even with a different birthday and age. Todd looked disturbed by Grayson’s idea, as if Grayson being home would’ve stopped Father from removing Todd from the streets. 

He, however, didn’t comment on it. Instead, they descended into a conversation comparing the events of their respective 2010s, and Damian was left with peace once more. No life-ruining secrets were spilled, nothing was blown up or destroyed, and the two children Damian was watching over were once again entertained. 

He returned to his phone and continued reading through news articles, the current one being in written French from May. The world slipped away around him until it was little more than a background, not completely out of mind in case of an attack but pushed out of focus for the sake of concentration. 

All in all, the months he’d skipped over seemed to be extraordinarily plain, with no intergalactic threats, sudden blizzards in the middle of summer, or hostage negotiations on Two-Face’s usual dates. Then again, if this whole Earth insisted on the fact it considered him and his family to be mere fiction, then perhaps their threats were only that as well. 

The idea was unsettling at first, but had its merits the more Damian thought about it. No supervillains, just petty crimes and criminals. Batman and Robin(and Nightwing)(and their many, many sidekicks) would be more or less unstoppable, with probably the easiest patrols since Batman first debuted. 

Damian filed this particular thought away for later.

-0-

Eventually, the bus stopped at their intended destination. The three of them filed out of the bus neatly, copying the other passengers by utilizing basic common sense, and were left standing on one of the many sidewalks in New York City. 

Grayson instantly started stretching, looking relieved as his joints ‘popped’. Todd just rolled his shoulders and neck, not nearly to the same extent as Grayson. Instead, he focused most of his attention into taking in the city with wide blue eyes. If Damian were to use Brown’s terms, he’d refer to it as mildly “adorable”, how they were so amazed by just another boring Western city, but only in the most basic sense of the word. 

“Well, Grayson, Todd, we have roughly an hour before we need to depart for Trenton. Is there anything you would like to do to spend the time?” He would’ve liked to just sit at the bus stop and continue reading, but these were children and Damian had to take care of them. 

Grayson removed himself from the bus stop’s bench, where he formerly had been doing a one-handed handstand. “I’m kinda hungry. Can we get lunch?”

“Only if it’s cheap. We’re working with a limited budget, remember?” Todd cut in. “But yeah, if we can do it, that would be nice.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Tt. Todd, there is no need to worry about an expense so little as the cost of a lunch. We will get something worth eating, do not worry.” 

“Awesome! I don’t really care what we eat, so do either of you have any preferences?” Grayson asked, as if he was the one who was taking care of them. 

“You two may eat whatever you like. I myself am vegetarian, and will be as such abiding by those restrictions.” He huffed. There was no need to not talk about this while walking, so he started heading south. The two children quickly followed. 

Todd was still gaping at the buildings like a fool, but he managed to pull himself together long enough to say, “Uh, then maybe pizza? We can buy it by the slice, and I remember New York being famous for it. Also it’s usually vegetarian.”

“Sure! I usually like my pizza with—”

“‘—A lot of everything’, I know.” Todd cut in. “Dick, I don’t know that much about you because you have your own adult like and shit, but I do know all about your eating habits from Alfred.” 

Grayson only beamed. “That’s so cool! What’s my favorite ice cream flavor?”

“It depends on where you’re eating it and who you’re with. If you’re alone, you like Mint Chip or Chocolate. If you’re with your friends, you order the weirdest shit you can find on the menu. And if you’ve had a crappy night, Rocky Road.” 

Damian did not know about the Rocky Road. He filed this information away for later. 

“That’s right! What about you?” Grayson questioned. “What’s your favorite?”

Todd slipped past a person and back to Grayson’s side. “Favorite what? Pizza topping? I’ll eat anything, though I avoid pineapple if I can. Ice Cream wise, I’m solidly in Team Strawberry right now.” 

Damian spotted a sign that said, “PIZZA” only a block away. He stopped at the crosswalk and waited for the light to change. 

“Wait? No way, pineapple on pizza is great! The sweetness really cuts through the grease.” Grayson complained. “Though your opinion on Strawberry’s okay, because at least you didn’t say Vanilla.” 

“The hell’s wrong with Vanilla? It’s a classic!” 

“It’s boring! If you’re gonna have ice cream, then you might as well make it fun. I don’t see the point if there’s literally any other option available.”

Todd looked wounded(figuratively of course), as he pressed one hand up against his heart and draped the other over his forehead. “I thought I trusted you.” He said dramatically. 

They continued to bicker behind Damian, but he honestly couldn’t devote any more attention to their conversation in fear he would lose a brain cell in doing so. Instead, he just made sure they were following behind and were uninjured. Everything else was their problem. 

There was a short wait line inside the shop, but the food quality looked somewhat decent for a random shop that Damian happened to spot. He decided a slice of their vegetable pizza would be serviceable, and ordered as such. Todd and Grayson ordered a slice of “combination” and pepperoni pizza respectably, and after receiving their order, ate quietly outside the shop. 

New York City was closer to Gotham than Boston geographically, but it still was nowhere near the same to the city he’d spent the past three years of his life living. It was much too...bright, and cheerful. The citizens of New York didn’t carry themselves with the bitter suspicion Gothamites were raised and bred to develop, and they didn’t have the same animalistic instinct to survive. 

It was fascinating to watch, as he never really took time as a civilian to enjoy other cities. If he traveled, it was for a mission, or a forced impromptu vacation with Jon that usually involved a lot of flying. Not walking amongst the people as one of them. 

However, anyone with eyes could probably tell Damian wasn’t one of their kind. Even if he wasn’t born in Gotham like Brown or Todd(Drake didn’t count. Drake never counted), he’d absorbed their tendencies to blend in. Anyone could identify a Gothamite if they tried. 

Apparently, the idiotic fool who tried to steal their convenience store bag of provisions, had neither eyes nor willpower. She brushed against him, one of the most basic tactics to ever exist, and looped her fingers around the plastic just long enough to make the bag move. 

Then Damian brought his other arm down with precision and broke her ulna. The pain was enough to make her fingers open, and for the thief to drop to the concrete. She was clutching her arm, biting into her lip to try to prevent screaming, eyes tearing up from the pain. 

She was young, but not young enough to pass for a child. Dirtied, layered clothes, all mismatched and all well worn. Stringy black hair tied up with a rubber band, the roots greasy enough to indicate that she hadn’t had the opportunity to wash her hair in quite a while. 

All indicators of homelessness. This attempted theft was a crime of necessity, most likely. 

Damian held little sympathy. He’d seen children in much worse states in Gotham on a regular basis. However, he had broken her arm instinctively, and she would most likely struggle to find a way to set it properly, much less pay for the costs. 

Sighing, he fished an unopened plastic water bottle from the bag and handed it to her wordlessly. 

He didn’t have the time nor patience to deal with her broken arm, not to mention the cost. There was no Dr. Thompkins was nowhere near, and he didn’t know New York City well enough to find someone similar. However, a water bottle she could reuse would be better than nothing. Money could be stolen or abused, but no one but her would care about a basic disposable bottle. 

She took it and ran, not even looking back. Damian hadn’t expected her to. 

“What the fuck? Dickface, you saw that, right? I’m not hallucinating this shit?” 

He rolled his eyes. As if they didn’t use such force and more on criminals nightly. “Yes, Todd, I broke an unsuccessful thief's ulna. It was no hallucination.”

Todd threw his hands up in the air, one still clutching a partially-eaten slice of pizza. “What the fuck, dude? It was just some cheap crap that we don’t care about. No one’s arm should’ve been broken over that!”

Grayson watched the exchange, mouth still full of food. Yet his wide, blue eyes filled with surprise being directed at Damian stung, like Grayson was ashamed to be associated with him. Damian resisted the urge to look away; This wasn’t his mentor, not really. This was a child who was inferior to him. 

“Todd, I suggest you lower your voice unless you wish to attract the attention of every pedestrian within the surrounding city blocks.” He hissed. “I did it out of instinct, and I was merciful by only breaking her ulna. It could’ve very well been that and her radius, or even a break at the elbow. The thief will recover.” 

He didn’t say how if this had happened earlier in his life, he probably would’ve killed her from instinct alone. He didn’t need an even more critical glare from children who knew nothing. 

Still, Todd didn’t look satisfied. He lowered his arms and crammed the rest of his slice of pizza in his mouth angrily. He said something, but it was so muffled from the food that Damian couldn’t possibly make out the words, even with his advanced sense of hearing. Still, the sentiment was clear from Todd’s furrowed brows and cold gaze. 

How hypocritical, coming from a boy who would sever several heads from their bodies only years later. How hypocritical, coming from a boy who would be known throughout the family for being more murderous than Damian. How hypocritical, coming from a boy who experienced death and came back believing it should be enacted on whoever violated his personal sense of morality. 

Grayson swallowed, but said nothing. Damian didn’t miss him stepping closer to Jason, almost as if to shield the boy from him. 

Fine then, he’d play this game. He’d already done it once before, and he could do it again. He would prove to his adoptive brothers that he was as worthy of the name “Robin” as they had been. 

“...We should be leaving soon. The bus will depart shortly.” He said, his throat feeling dry. The pizza turned in his stomach, and the desire to go back to the manor and fall back into his usual routine with Pennyworth and Father only grew. 

Grayson and Todd nodded, silent. They stayed close to one another over the course of their journey to the next bus stop, basking in each other’s presence without touching. Perhaps it was because they were closer chronologically, or because their maturities were more aligned. Either way, it was clear Grayson preferred Todd over him. 

Just another reminder of how he had to earn their approval. 

Damian didn’t speak to them as they boarded, didn’t speak to them as they filed to the back like before, didn’t speak as Todd wordlessly held out his hand for a water bottle. He didn’t feel like sparking another possible argument, and words were so often used as kindling. 

Initially, Grayson and Todd didn’t speak much either. Their energy seemed dimmed, even drained. But nothing could keep Grayson bogged down for long. Damian had seen him smile when he was at his lowest, laugh when there was nothing to laugh for. And slowly, as the bus to Trenton started up and they began the next segment of their journey, Grayson began to regain his childish excitement, pulling Todd in like a whirlpool. 

But Damian steered clear. He purposefully dodged the few attempts they threw at him to bring him into the conversation, and he stuck to reading more news articles on his phone. He couldn’t risk making his bond between them any worse at the moment, but he could at least be prepared to keep them safe by arming himself with as much information as possible. 

Most international news was boring to him, and would most likely be irrelevant for the time being, so Damian switched to local news from Gotham’s area, New Jersey, and the East Coast. The area where Gotham was supposed to be was laughably low in crime and as disinteresting as Smallville, Kansas. New Jersey was more interesting, with more complex crimes and scandals floating around, but nothing on the scale of Gotham’s Rogue Gallery or their schemes. 

The general news for the East Coast, however, was what really caught Damian’s attention. As soon as he started the most simple searches for relevant news pertaining to the region, his screen was flooded with videos and articles all containing the one or more of the following words: _Vigilante, Robin, Stuntmen_. 

With a sinking feeling, he tapped on the first article listed, _“Robin Stuntmen in Boston for Unknown Movie?”_ There was a video at the beginning, and as soon as he began viewing the amateurish film, his suspicions were confirmed. 

In the video there were two people dressed in Robin costumes, one blonde and distinctly female, and the other dark-haired, most likely male. Although the video quality was poor, Damian knew those moves and costumes anywhere. 

Drake and Brown. 

They swung from building to building in broad daylight in the video, disappearing behind one as the video came to an end. Their moves indicated they were moving with speed in mind, actions conservative rather than flashy or intimidating. 

For Drake to risk being seen in an unknown environment, and for them to be moving that quickly, there must have been a threat, but whether they were running to or from said threat was unknown. 

Damian felt incomprehensibly foolish for not checking more extensively for their presences. For not checking Boston’s news sources and locating the two former Robins the day they were filmed. For leaving them behind in Boston. 

They could hold their own, he was sure. Drake and Brown were largely incompetant with most things, but they were still trained by Father nonetheless. After investigating the Manor and the land where Gotham should be located, he would return to Boston and find the duo. 

His eyes drifted away from the phone to Grayson and Todd, who were now napping. Their faces were slack and relaxed, and Grayson’s head was cradled on Todd’s shoulder. 

He needn’t make them worry about Drake and Brown. They were already stressed enough as is with dimension travel. This was his burden to bear; his mistake. 

And Damian would rectify it before Grayson even noticed. 

-0-

_Location: A broken-into apartment in Boston, New Jersey_  
_Date: Sunday, November 3rd, 2010_  
_Time: 11:43 am_

“Tim, what do you think about my hair? Does it look alright?”

Stephanie Brown was currently in the midst of doubting every choice she’d ever made in regards to her Robin costume’s design. The red looked the wrong shade, the headband felt silly and stupid, and she could swear her domino was slightly lopsided. 

“It looks fine, Steph.” Tim sighed, spiking his hair with some of the water they purchased. The spikes wouldn’t last long like this, not without gel, but the video was intended to just be short and sweet. 

That was easy for him to say. He made Robin look good, even if she thought his emo hood was a little overboard. She and Carrie convinced him to not wear it on the videos because it aged him 20 years. 

Steph rolled her eyes, scowling. “You’re such a liar. Carrie, tell me the truth: Do I look bad right now?”

The redhead gave Steph a one over, her gaze scrutinizing. “Nope, you look right on bulous. I don’t see anything wrong.”

“See? I told you.” Tim said, sounding smug. “Come on, even if it did look bad, that’s not the point. The point is to pass as this being not real to everyone who isn’t from one of our realities. Hell, I even swapped my domino color to throw normal people off.” 

She winced. “Yeah, green is so not your color. Why do you even have one in that color anyways?”

“It’s not a completely different domino, I just changed its color. Like the stealth suit technology the Team uses for blending into environments.”

Half of those words didn’t make the slightest bit of sense. “Repeat that for me in English?”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t even that complicated this time! Just—” Tim cut himself off, shaking his head. “—Watch this.” 

He double tapped the side of his domino, and the green disappeared under a wave of black originating from the point where he tapped. Within two seconds, the whole mask was black again. 

Tim tapped a few more times as it turned red, then white, then brown, then blue, then green again. “Now do you understand?”

She understood that his mask could change colors, not how, but Tim probably knew that. She nodded. 

“Good. Now, do you remember what you’re going to say for your part in the video?” 

A spike of irrational irritation shot through her at his wording. He probably didn’t mean it, but he sounded a lot like Batman when he was talking down to her. “Yeah, sure.”

He gestured with his hand in a “go on,” move. “And…?”

“Hi everyone, Michelle Tarris here! I’m the one of the two actors for Robin that have been trending recently on social media. We’re making this video to discuss our massive success in promo-ing our new mini series, which will be coming out soon!” She recited, rolling her eyes. “Tim, do you really think they’ll catch the Michelle Tarris thing? I mean, I’ve only heard the code once.” 

“I hope so. It’s a little harder to catch than Shelley, but we have to be careful. ‘Shell Terrace’ is written into the League’s list of coded terms for ‘stranded’, and I couldn’t think of anything else that could pass as an alias.”

“How’d that even become a code word for ‘stranded’? I don’t see it.” Carrie asked, looking away from Tim’s phone. She had been given a crash course in filming to act as their cameraman, but she obviously was still very uncomfortable with the tech. Therefore, she’d been fiddling with settings for the past hour and testing out different modes. 

“A shelled terrace would be uncomfortable to walk on barefoot, just like how being stranded is uncomfortable. Both have connotations with the ocean. It’s unlikely to pop into a conversation accidentally. And probably most likely, ‘stranded’ starts with ‘st’, and “Shell Terrace’’s first letters correspond.” Tim listed. “Batman has a system to this sorta stuff.”

Carrie blinked. “Damn. Did you just figure this out right now, or didja memorize it?”

“Former. Now, Steph, what’s my alias?”

“Adam Milligan, but everyone calls you ‘Mill” for short.” She could swear that Tim was actually enjoying this. 

He clapped. “Good. Are you ready to do this?” 

She’d been ready all morning. Steph had wanted to start filming hours ago. 

But now, she felt herself already wanting to backpedal. Some twisted type of stagefright, as she presented herself to a strange world with lies. She didn’t like it. 

But it was necessary. 

“Yep. Carrie, are you done fiddling with the camera?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be done,” Carrie admitted, “But I’m satisfied for now. Just tell me when to start.” 

Tim pulled her against the blank wall of their stolen apartment, smiled brightly, and said, “Action!” 

Steph’s nervousness melted away as she was consumed with just following the process laid out for her. Smile. Wave. Recite her lines. Point to Tim while laughing. Stand still while he talked, but not too still. Wave goodbye to the camera. 

The video was only twenty seconds long, but it felt like an eternity. Once Carrie cut the feed, Steph let her shoulders slump, and collapsed on her quilt. 

Tim took his phone and began lightly editing with the app’s features, his fake smile from before long gone. “Now, we wait. I’ve set up our fake work emails to be contacted at, with Adam’s being promoted as the one to contact for anything related to our ‘project’, and Michelle’s only mentioned once at the end. Hopefully, I can just assume Adam’s is spam, and only have to check Michelle’s, but we both know I’ll probably monitor both extensively.”

She closed her eyes and let herself relax. “Yep. And no one will know or care about Carrie right now. I think you said there was only one picture taken of her?”

“Two, but that’s easy to cover. Also, the photos currently have,” He paused. “Six views for the less blurry one, and two for the blurry one.” 

She hummed, not really sure what to say. She heard Carrie moving in the background, heard Tim tapping at his screen, heard her own heart beating within her chest. 

“Are we filming part two today? What’s supposed to make us go viral?” She already knew the answer.

Tim’s tapping stopped. “Yes. I’m looking on Google Maps for spaces that would be good for filming and stunts.”

“And…?”

He went back to tapping while he talked, soft footsteps indicating he was pacing. “I have two places currently. I’m just trying to compare them to see which is the best.” 

“Oh, cool. Remember, Carrie’s babysitting today. We can probably drop her off after filming, if it doesn’t take ages.” Steph opened an eye to see Tim still pacing, and Carrie was leaning against the wall. 

The bespeckled girl met Stephanie’s eyes. “I still have no idea how you managed to get me a gig this short notice.” 

“Lots and lots of practice. I just had to look around the supermarket for where stressed parents were shopping with kids, then not-so-subtly put up the posters right in front of them. One even asked me about it before I finished putting up the flyer.” Tim may have been a master planner, but Steph had experience when it came to working with people like this.

Carrie whistled. “Remind me to shadow you next time. But anyways, their name is the Owens, right? Two kids, one’s six and the other’s eight?” 

“Yes,” Tim confirmed. “According to what I can find on Facebook, they’re a moderately middle class family, they value children not having much screen time, and are some sect of Christianity, though I can’t tell exactly what.” 

“Bulous. I’ll make sure to go through my usual crafts and activities with them. I’m not used to relying on all this modern tech anyways, so it’s not like I’ll be tempted to use it as a crutch.”

“Great,” Steph clapped, sitting upright. “Uh, what else is happening today? My credit card’s coming in the mail?”

Tim looked away from his phone, staring at the ceiling as he silently mouthed something to himself. “...I think so. I’ll check the address I listed us under. Have you finished filling out your job application for that position with the retirement community?”

“No, I think I needed a social security number and a few other things. So I saved what I wrote to a doc, and will finish the rest when I can.” She said. “But I have gotten a few more calls about babysitting, so at least there’s that.” 

“That’s good.” Carrie chimed in. Steph felt a pang of sympathy for the ginger, who probably felt left out in the current conversation. Neither Tim nor Steph were used to her yet, and most likely wouldn’t be for a while. But, to her credit, Carrie looked unbothered for the most part. 

Tim went back to his phone, typing something quickly before coming to a sudden stop. A smile slid across his face. “This is even better. I’ve found the perfect place for filming. We can do some moves that are basic but flashy that focus on showmanship rather than actual skill. It’ll cement our reputation as just actors, but legitimate ones. Anyone who picked up on the “Michelle Tarris” clue will see what we’re doing, for sure.”

She could already feel the itch, the pull to do something while in the suit, tugging at her. It was one of the things about vigilantism; it was almost impossible to stop. 

If satisfying that urge meant doing a bunch of meaningless moves in hopes of finding other vigilantes, so be it. At least there(probably) wasn’t a chance of them getting hurt. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“I’ll show you, come on.” Tim slipped his phone into a pocket in his Robin costume and waved them towards the door. “It’s a bit far away, but us walking around will hopefully generate more interest online. If anyone asks us questions, either recite what we said in the video or let me do the talking. Alright?”

Carrie slid in front of Steph as they filed out the door. “And what about me? Do I just act like I don’t know you guys? Because that may be a bit hard to sell.”

Tim waved his hand absent-mindedly. “You’re…our cameraman’s little sister who decided to tag along. I don’t think anyone will ask, but you’re right, it’s a good idea to have a contingency just in case.” 

“Cameraman’s little sister. Got it.” Carrie nodded. “Alright then, I’m ready.” 

Steph adjusted her headband again, even though it was probably fine. They didn’t go down the stairs of the apartment to the entrance, but instead the roof access point. Couldn’t have anyone trace their location easily, after all. 

From the roof, they shot their grapple guns(with Carrie clinging to Tim’s back for image purposes) and descended gracefully to the Boston streets, capes flaring behind them like wings. 

They could grapple the whole way there, but that took a lot of arm strength, and with Carrie unable to support herself due to her Robin costume being left behind, the risk of an accident was too much. Besides, by walking they’d get much more publicity, if she was going with Tim’s logic. 

She disconnected her grapple line and let it retract back into her gun, then strapped it to her side. Carrie detached herself from Tim as he did the same, and she brushed her ginger hair out of her eyes.   
“Alright, we need to head south. Follow me.” Tim waved his hand and started walking, slow enough for Steph and Carrie to easily join at his side. He moved more...animatedly than usual, with bigger, grander motions and more eye-catching moves. Most likely to catch more attention, but their costumes were plenty enough. Teens and young adults alike took photos of her and Tim with their phones. 

They were asked a few questions, like if they were the same people from the videos, what they were doing, how they learned to move through the air with the grapple guns. Some asked for a signature, to which Steph almost signed her name the first time. But she thankfully caught herself, and instead signed “Michelle Tarris”. 

It continued like this for the entirety of the walk, which, while it made their commute nearly double as long as it should’ve been, spread the name of their online accounts a good amount. Steph didn’t care either way, but Tim looked proud and Carrie looked drained. 

Still, they got to the park with no real issue. Instantly, Steph could see why Tim chose this location in particular. There were plenty of tall buildings around the perimeter, perfect for grappling, but lots of clear sky where he could get good shots without anything being in his way. 

Steph knew that Tim wanted to be the one taking the photos, since he was the one who had a talent for it in the first place, but Carrie couldn’t pass for him without a wig. So for now, he was stuck being the subject of the photos. 

She watched as he handed over his phone to her and directed Carrie through what he wanted her to do, wording careful and precise with no room for miscommunication. Steph just watched and waited, wanting to get to the action sooner rather than later. 

But eventually, finally, he left Carrie’s side. “We’re going to be doing a few swings around the area with some Nightwing-style acrobatics. Then, you and I will spar in the middle of the park for a bit. Nothing serious.” 

“Nightwing-style acrobatics? What, are you expecting me to do the elusive quadruple backflip?” She joked with a smile. 

He shrugged. “If you can handle it. I’ll lead, alright?”

“You’ve got it. I’m ready when you are.” 

-0-

Robins were definitely meant to fly. 

Steph couldn’t help but laugh with pure, unadulterated elation as she swung behind Tim, wind nipping at her hair and cape. The cool air made her nose runny and lips dry, but she didn’t care. It could be pouring or hailing or the middle of a tornado and she’d still feel happy. Because that’s what doing this made her feel. 

Without the fear of not getting to a location in time or disappointing Batman for the umpteenth time, she was able to just completely have fun. She spun, she twirled, she flipped. Anything was possible in the air if she tried hard enough. 

And the utter rush she experienced when it all came to an end, when the realization of exactly what she accomplished came crashing down like a tidal wave, she let it take her. Steph deserved to feel proud of what she could do. 

A small group of people had gathered to watch her and Tim’s antics at the park, and now that they were readying for their spar, the crowd formed around them like a ring. It cemented the performer feeling, as she never had an inactive audience as Robin, and certainly never one this big during a spar. 

“First to say uncle loses?” Tim proposed. 

She smirked. “If we’re going by the standard set of sparring rules, sure. Carrie, mind being the one to give us the countdown?”

The bespeckled girl nodded. “Three.”

Steph straightened and pulled out a wingding. 

“Two.” 

She balanced it between her fingers, readying to throw. Tim had his staff at the ready. 

“One.” 

They locked eyes. 

“Go!”

Instantly, they were both moving. She flung her wingdings at Tim, knowing that he’d be able to avoid them well enough to not get hurt. And she was right, he skillfully blocked them with his staff. But that kept him occupied enough for her to move closer, sliding around the metal pole. 

But he was quick. Before she could even dream of touching him, he jabbed his staff towards her chest and Steph was forced to leap back to avoid having a broken rib or bruised solar plexus. 

She rearmed herself with more wingdings and circled him, trying to find an opening. He did the same, gloved fingers tight on his staff. 

Tim struck first, and she dodged, ducking down and using the drop to swing her leg behind his. He leapt back in response and blocked another kick as she jumped up. 

They kept going back and forth, offense and defence, each hit on each other getting a cheer from the growing crowd. Neither of them were fighting dirty yet, but Steph could tell Tim would rather lose than go that far right now. This was just a show, nothing serious. 

But that didn’t mean Steph had to go easy either. She dodged, kicked, and threw. She found pun opportunities and bantered, keeping the mood light while trying to distract the great Tim Drake. 

It didn’t work, as he managed to back her against a tree with his staff pressed against her throat. She probably could fight more, find an opening and continue the battle, but the video was probably long enough as is. 

Steph let her pride fall, and said, “Uncle. You win.” 

The crowd cheered as Tim lifted away his staff, and even though she’d technically lost, Steph felt...proud. It was strange, receiving such a blatant and clear form of approval so easily, when usually her efforts as Spoiler(or Robin) were only mentioned in passing by goons or written into the morning paper. 

It made her want to smile. That finally, after dedicating months of her life to fighting crime, she was getting praise for the skills she worked to build. Of course, what she did was nothing compared to the fights she had almost nightly when in Gotham, but these people didn’t care. That was clear. 

So she let herself smile, just this once. She deserved it. 

After the fight ended, Tim went to go check Carrie’s footage and make sure nothing went wrong, and Steph was left to deal with the crowd. They bombarded her with questions about where she and Tim learned their tricks, who Michelle Tarris and Adam Milligan were, what their new project was, et cetera. She signed autographs, which, even if she’d already done it earlier, still felt weird. 

Not one of them said or asked anything near the truth. No one asked if they weren’t just actors, no one said that this was all just fake. Tim’s plan was working, or at least appearing to. Then again, when he was given full control of a situation with no clear time limit, he rarely failed. 

Minutes slipped by, and while Steph made her way through the crowd of curious onlookers and bystanders by answering their questions and requests, Tim eventually returned to her side. He leapt into the remaining questions with a cheerful, energetic presence that she could’ve mistaken for Dick’s on a good day. It was obviously an act to her, but all the civilians looked like they completely believed that Adam Milligan was just that good-natured and bright naturally. 

“Hey, Carrie wants to speak to you.” Tim said in between questions, jabbing a thumb in Carrie’s direction. She was leaning against a tree, watching them. 

Steph nodded. “Alright, sure. I’ll be back soon.” 

She excused herself from the fans and made her way over to Carrie, stopping a reasonable distance away to hold a conversation. “What’s up?”

“I need to leave for babysitting soon, and Tim said you could take me while he handles the last of this stuff.” 

Steph paused. Carrie didn’t seem like the dependant type. “Any reason you couldn’t walk yourself?”

A flash of irritation flitted across Carrie’s face. “It’s too far away for public transportation to get there in time, and I obviously can’t grapple myself because then there’d be another Robin to explain. So another piggyback joyride is the only answer unless you wanna piss off our first customer.” 

“...Yeah, that makes sense.” Steph sighed. She could already feel how sore her muscles would be later tonight from the combined strain of carrying another person while grappling and doing all the stunts. “Are you ready to leave now?”

“I don’t have anything to wait for.” Carrie countered. “So yeah, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” 

Steph bent over to allow the ginger to climb on her back, made sure Carrie’s grip was strong, then shot her grappling hook in the direction of their clientele’s apartment. 

Carrie didn’t speak a single time during the entire trip, and when Steph dropped her off on the roof, she didn’t even say goodbye. Just walked through the fire exit and down into the bowels of the building. No assurance she’d be home on time or that she’d be safe. 

The happy feeling from before faded as Steph realized this, and curdled into a strange, unidentifiable, yet definitely unpleasant, feeling that left her wanting to go chase after Carrie and make sure she was okay. She’d only known the kid for a few days, but to act like this was definitely off brand. Something was bothering her, and it’d happened either during shooting or after. 

But sadly, Steph was nowhere near close enough to Carrie to be able to prod without possibly damaging their new relationship. So she’d just have to figure it out the slightly harder way. 

Starting with Tim. 

-0-

“What about this listing at...Pizza Palooza? They need staff.” 

Okay, so, maybe she put off interrogating Tim for a bit. Originally, her plan was to ask him about Carrie when they met up at their stolen apartment, and then come up with a solution, but Tim had destroyed that plan by bringing up job hunting. 

AKA, she’d gotten hopelessly sidetracked, browsing the internet for any job listings that fit Tim’s criteria, and it was too late to just change the subject on a whim. She was trapped with this until it ended.

“No way. Unless it's the last option out there, I’m not doing anything in the restaurant industry. Way too much stress.” 

Steph snorted, but then remembered how tired the kids with those jobs always looked after a long shift when she was home. Nobody at Gotham Academy except for a select few(like her) would ever even need to think of getting a job for financial stability, especially not ones at a restaurant making minimum wage, but she was still in touch with a few classmates from before she received her scholarship. 

She scrolled to another listing. “Okay, fine, no restaurants. What about...tutor? It’s not exactly as stable as a job, but you can set your own hours and rates and stuff.” 

“Mm, no. I’m already bored out of my mind at school, so adding more hours of that would be its own special kind of torture. Besides, I’ve been told I’m crappy at explaining things anyways.” Tim answered. 

She hummed in agreement. He did tend to leave info out for contingencies, or just was vague because he assumed you’d automatically catch on. Not great for a tutor. “Well, nothing I’m getting seems to work. Do you have anything in mind?” 

He shrugged. “I mean, if we were to gear a job towards my specific skill set, it’d be in coding and hacking. So probably things like online security, or maybe just doing bug bounties for whatever site or company I can find offers them. But if we’re talking in general, I probably would only be able to do an entry-level job and have bug bounties be my sidegig, like babysitting for you.” 

“M’kay. So, taking that into account…” Steph stopped talking as she went scrolling once more. “...How about a bagger or stocker at a store? That’s just memorization of where things go and moving them.” 

“Nghn.” He mimicked Bruce’s familiar grunts with an air of annoyance. “I guess? It’s better than anything else we’re come up with so far. But I want to search a bit longer, since, you know, this is going to be my first official job.”

“Being Robin isn’t enough of a job to be counted?” She teased. 

In retaliation, he softly punched her arm. “ _On paper_. And besides, if Drake Industries even existed here, which it doesn’t, I couldn’t just walk in and take over. Doing stuff in the background for my parents just constitutes as training.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “Okay, so the only jobs we have on the list are those two. We’re done looking when Carrie gets here, alright? It’s just some job, it shouldn’t be that important in the grand scheme of things.” 

He rolled his eyes, but agreed. A silence fell between the two of them as they scrolled on their smartphones, the only sound being the Bostonian traffic outside. Steph drew her quilt tighter around herself, the cold of outside seeping into her bones through the apartment walls. Her fingers felt clumsy and a bit numb, but that wasn’t unusual for this time of year with no heating. 

The more important thing was that this was a prime opportunity to ask Tim. 

She glanced in his direction and found him curled up in a ball on the floor, wrapped tightly in his quilt, eyes locked on the phone. It resembled the position she usually took while scrolling through her social media pages at 2 am, or when she was reading a particularly good fanfiction. 

He couldn’t get out of this easily, both verbally and physically. 

“Hey, Tim?”

His eyes didn’t move away from the screen. “Hm?”

Here goes nothing. 

“Do you know about anything that could’ve affected Carrie?”

She had his attention now. His blue eyes focused on her, even if nothing else moved. “Why?”

Bingo. “Well, when I took her, she seemed more upset than what I’ve seen so far. So, do you know about anything that could’ve caused that?”

“What do you mean by upset?” 

He was doing the ‘answer with another question to avoid answering the first’ trick and they both knew it. Still, there was nothing wrong with answering this question, so Steph didn’t push it. 

“Moody, didn’t say a lick when we were traveling, and didn’t even look back to say goodbye when I dropped her off. That kind of moody. Sulky teenager moody.” 

His eyes moved away, focusing on a blank spot on the wall. Guilt.

“Tim.”

He looked at her. “...Fine. While I was going over footage, I said something that inspired Carrie to talk about her timeline. I don’t know exactly what it was that inspired her, but the point is that she started to speak about what Robin means to Gotham.” 

“What?” That wasn’t what she was expecting. 

“Yeah. Anyways, turns out that her version of 1987 is a lot more fucked up than ours ever was. Luthor has a puppet President in office, Superman under his beck and call, and the Justice League won’t do anything to interfere. And according to her, in December of 86, Bruce’s identity of Batman was found out alongside his faked death.”

_What the fuck?_

“What the fuck.” She couldn’t help but blurt it out. “Bruce’s identity was found out after it was discovered he faked his death?” 

Tim shook his head. “No, it was found out _because_ of that. Carrie claims that for roughly a year or so, Bruce has been living underground and planning his final attack on Superman and Luthor while she and an army of metahumans she calls the “Batboys” take care of Gotham. Oh, and apparently Green Arrow’s involved too, somehow.” 

Her feeling of ‘What the fuck’ only strengthened. “Okay, that’s awful and all, and really, really weird, but how did that piss her off? I mean, it's her world, isn’t it? She’d be used to it.”

“That wasn’t what triggered it. I was telling you this for the sole reason of giving context to one thing: The fact that Carrie has been in the position of a leader for nearly a year. Apparently, she’s the face of Gotham’s vigilante team nowadays, and she commands all the Batboys to take care of crime. She’s used to dealing with large groups and commanding them.” 

An itch of a revelation started at the base of her skull, but it was too faint for Steph to poke at it just yet. “And…?”

“And ever since she’s arrived here, one of us has been assuming control instead, usually me. She’s frustrated because she is being commanded by people who are, theoretically, at the same commanding level. She’s frustrated because she knows she needs our trust, but angry that the need is even there in the first place.” Tim surmised. 

Add that to teenage hormonal mood swings, and Steph could clearly see how Carrie would feel so frustrated. “You didn’t help either.” It wasn’t a question. If there was any doubt, it vanished when he’d looked so guilty earlier. 

“No, I didn’t. I told her that she does need to listen to us for everyone’s sake, and that I don’t trust or know her well enough to follow her orders, nor would I ever want to.” He admitted. “I could see a spat was brewing quickly, so I brought up babysitting and said you’d take her. I was hoping that the trip would help clear her head and let her realize that being angry at this is just a waste of energy.” 

She snorted. “That didn’t work.”

He curled into himself a bit tighter, still laying on the floor. “Yeah, well, hopefully dealing with kids for a few hours tires her out enough to forget about being angry.”

“Hopefully.” Steph agreed. They didn’t need any more stress. “Anyways, how’s the filming thing from today coming along? You posted it, right?”

“Yeah, I did. It’s doing well so far, with about every fifth viewer or so leaving a like. That’s a great ratio by most standards.”

She brushed a stray strand of blond hair out of her face. “On the scale of locally popular once to so famous anyone knows them, where are we?”

Tim considered this. “Moderate to decently famous Viner or Youtuber, because we did end up in the news, but only once.” 

“Damn.” 

He let out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m surprised too. The internet has only grown in power over the past few years. Getting spread around should be easy enough, especially if we post somewhat often.” 

She nodded, and once again, they lapsed into a silence. This time, however, she didn’t bother to break it. Instead, she returned to scrolling for possible jobs for Tim, and filled out more boxes on her own job application.

With the exception of taking a dinner break of pretzels, fruit snacks, and water, they stayed in the same position for the hours until Carrie came home. It was decided that Tim would apply as an administrative assistant at the local courthouse, and that his backup plan would be a paid intern at a local bank chain. He stressed that making these sorts of ties were crucial, and that the more he had, the better. 

Steph just shrugged and went back to scrolling on her phone, now reading the comments of their latest video and replying to whatever made her laugh or smile. 

The silence continued until, at last, there was a knock at the door. Steph got up to open it, and Carrie was on the other side, looking dead on her feet. 

“Welcome back. Want some food?” 

The redhead dully nodded as she trodded over to her quilt and flopped down. “Kids are exhausting.” She breathed. 

“I agree. That’s one of many reasons I’m not doing babysitting if I can avoid it.” Tim said from his quilted cocoon. 

Steph handed Carrie the near-empty pretzel bag and a few packets of fruit gummies. “Speaking of, how much did you make?”

Carrie pulled out three $20s. “I make $60 for three hours. It was supposed to be $48, but the mom didn’t have any smaller bills. Told me to keep the change.” 

Steph’s eyebrows raised. That was one generous tip. “Do you think they’ll be a repeat customer?”

“Probably. Seemed satisfied with my work, and kept repeating that she loved how I didn’t rely on the T.V. or tablets once.” Carrie ripped open one of the fruit gummy packets and poured its contents into her left hand. 

“Good.” It wasn’t enough to support three people for long, but hopefully would tide them over until their applications were accepted. 

She filled Carrie in on their job hunting but skipped over their conversation about her. Steph told her about how well the videos were doing, and that if any of their allies were out there, they’d probably see them. It seemed to have a lulling effect on the bespeckled girl, and by the time Steph was done talking, she was snoring softly. 

“...She must’ve been exhausted.” Steph whispered. “It’s still pretty early.” 

“That’s what babysitting while emotionally burnt out will do, I suppose.” Tim answered, distracted. 

Steph glanced over at him. “Something caught your eye?”

Tim sat up, still wrapped up. “Maybe. Come over here and read this.”

Steph stepped over Carrie’s sleeping form and curled up next to Tim, reading the message on the screen. It was an email. 

_Dear Drake and Brown,_

_Your idiotic ways of seeking attention have caught my attention. Besides recognizing your inferior costume designs as Robin, the code word “Shell Terrace” made it abundantly clear that you believe yourselves to be stranded. I suppose it is my duty to provide aid to you both, as the current Robin. However, with Grayson and Todd being reverted to their younger selves, it stands to reason that you may not yet know of me._

_As such, I shall be introducing myself. If you are your current selves, please, feel free to skip past this._

_I am Damian al Ghul Wayne, Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul’s child. I was raised by my mother in League compounds until I was ten, where I bested my mother in combat and was allowed to meet my father for the first time. I believed that the name Robin was a title I was born to assume as my father’s blood heir, and attempted to steal it from Drake several times until Grayson gave it to me. As of now, I have been Robin for three years._

_Grayson and Todd are currently 13 and 14 respectfully, and do not know of your existences. We are en route to where Gotham was located to investigate for any traces of Father, Pennyworth, or any other familiar allies. I will send you a report on the findings, then return to Boston to regroup._

_Do not do anything more moronic than usual._

_Insincerely,_

  
_Damian al Ghul Wayne, Robin_

She stared at the email, partially shocked at the news that Dick was 13 and Jason Todd was alive, that this Damian guy was Bruce’s love child with Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter, and that he was a Robin from the future.

And fully annoyed by the flippant, arrogant tone of the entire piece. This little shit. By her calculations, he was 13, so younger than even Carrie. Yet the way he wrote the letter spoke down to them with not a hint of respect or love. 

“What an asshole.” 

Tim took back his phone. “Yeah, but if he’s telling the truth about Dick and...Jason, then we probably should meet them.” 

Jason Todd, the second Robin.

Jason Todd, _the dead Robin_. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the past few days. “What the fuck happened to us?”

“I wish I knew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I know I said that this update would be on Sunday, not Friday, but whoops, I lied. I figured that Fridays would be easier for my schedule, so here we go. If it changes again in the future, just know it'll probably be within the realm of "weekend days" or the horrible thing that happens with real life overwhelms me too much to write, let alone update. :D  
> But let's set that aside, shall we? 
> 
> Next chapter will have the introduction of """new""" characters, an exploration of what Gotham's lack of being in New Jersey does to the boys, and how Tim's plan of getting internet famous is working almost as stupidly, illogically well as Beast Boy's in Young Justice: Outsiders, so stick around!  
> If you liked the story so far, please consider leaving a comment, kudos, bookmark, or even just privately subscribe. Its the fact that I get this sort of feedback that makes me want to continue, so even if its just keyspam or random emojis in the comments, it's still valid and makes me extremely happy. 
> 
> And as always, if you wanna chat with me about this or anything else, I can be found via email at those2peeps@gmail.com, on Discord at Fluff#0929, or on Tumblr @msperfectsheep-posts. 
> 
> Until next time,  
> Msperfectsheep


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